Fragile Invincibility
by CarpeDiem102
Summary: What would happen if the Bullywhips never came to be? Kurt is back at McKinley and refuses to tell Blaine of the hardships he faces. After a particularly rough beating, his secret is out.
1. Chapter 1

Kurt numbly brushed the pad of his thumb over his marred cheek, the aching tendrils of pain shooting up from the contact like the spurring of a bonfire. It flared and simmered in a fashion similar to flames, and despite his hopes, the icy contrast of his hand only succeeded in bringing more attention to the area. He allowed his arm fall to his side and stared at the dashboard in front of him in a strange sort of daze. This time there would be no excuses, no false explanations of tripping while dancing, or getting hit by a football, or falling during the Cheerios pyramid, or slipping on the stairs. He had run the gambit of stories. It was time to fess up, whether he wanted to or not.

It wasn't Burt that he was concerned most about, though he definitely made the list. Ever since Kurt had returned to McKinley, Blaine had been increasingly concerned for his safety. Kurt had managed to keep the first few injuries from his boyfriend a secret until they healed and faded, but it wasn't until a recent make out session that Blaine had discovered one of the many bruises littering Kurt's ribs.

"I slipped during Glee club." That had been Kurt's first excuse. Ever since then, Blaine seemed to be constantly questioning Kurt about the bullying situation at school, how he was coping, if he had been harassed, if he felt safe… Sometimes during hugs, Kurt could almost swear that Blaine was probing for sore spots, testing areas around his middle to see if he was unscathed.

But, Kurt had been lucky before—if you could call his school life lucky. The bullies had been conscious enough not to hit anywhere on his face, probably because they knew those kinds of injuries were the ones that would get them into trouble. Every shove, every punch, every slam had been below the neck. It was the only reason Kurt had not yet been found out. Of course, Kurt knew that Blaine had not truly believed his lies, but at least there was some small bit of doubt that prevented any certainty. Now that doubt was gone. What kind of realistic explanation was there for a black eye and a busted cheek?

Kurt turned the key in the ignition with hopeless finality. The act was over. What was he going to do now?

The drive home was pretty much a blur. Kurt couldn't remember exactly how he arrived from the school to his house, but as he sat in the driveway with the AC still running, he couldn't find the energy to care. All he could focus on was the fact that he had about half an hour before Blaine showed up. It was Wednesday, the day Blaine drove down from Westerville to have dinner with him and his family. Normally, Kurt and Blaine would have a few hours to themselves in the afternoons before the parents came home; Finn hung out with Puck after school so the house would be completely empty.

Kurt shut off the engine and climbed out of the seat. He could feel the blood pulsing thickly beneath the skin of the bruise and he grimaced as he reached for the key to the front door.

Once he was inside, he tossed his backpack on the kitchen and retreated to his room downstairs, clinging to the hope that a gratuitous amount of concealer could fix his face.

He was sadly disappointed. With s frustrated sigh, Kurt carefully wiped the makeup from his skin, wincing when he pressed down too hard. There was no use in trying to hide it now.

Eventually he plopped down on his bed, too depressed to even take off his Donna Karen cashmere sweater to prevent it from wrinkling. He had about fifteen minutes before Blaine would arrive so he decided on watching some tasteless TV show to pass the time. Kurt reached somberly for the remote and turned on Desperate Housewives, snuggling up with his favorite pillow and nestling into the unmade comforter.

Blaine POV

Blaine didn't ring the doorbell anymore; he knew Kurt kept the front door unlocked for him on Wednesdays, so he took the liberty of inviting himself in. In a way, Kurt's house had become Blaine's second home. Despite the lavishness of his own house, Blaine actually preferred Kurt's more; it felt comfortable and cozy, and there was family and a sense of belonging. Blaine's house was immaculate, but it was cold. There was no feeling of, 'yeah, this is where I live'; it was like they were living in a model, like it wasn't really their own.

Blaine stepped into the small foyer, breathing in the faint scent of wood polish and dust, and he smiled. He loved the place. He loved how the floorboards creaked beneath him and he loved how there were tiny cracks where the baseboard met the wall and he loved how the rooms were decorated with embarrassing baby pictures. Laughing quietly at a picture of Kurt at eight years old, Blaine rid himself of his jacket and loosened his tie.

"Kurt?" He called, ambling down the hall and into the kitchen.

No answer came, and Blaine's brow furrowed. Normally, Kurt greeted him at the door. The change in rhythm was discomforting.

"Kurt? Kurt, are you home?"

A few seconds passed and then a quiet answer came from below.

"Down here."

With concern etched into his face, Blaine made his way to the basement door and descended down the stairs. He could hear the faint sounds of the television, some girl yelling out 'you bitch!' through the speakers. Kurt didn't say anything else.

"Kurt, are you feeling okay? Is that Desperate Housewives, New Jersey?"

"Yeah, I'm okay." Kurt's meek voice replied.

Blaine swallowed. Something was off. He turned the corner into Kurt's room and found him lying on the bed, his face stuffed into a down pillow, completely ignoring the figures on the screen.

"Kurt, baby, what's wrong? Do you feel sick?" Blaine asked cautiously. He walked to the edge of the bed and knelt down on his knees, dropping to Kurt's eye level. He felt the stirrings of unease in his stomach and he placed his hand on the back of Kurt's thigh, rubbing gently back and forth. Blaine saw him relax under his touch, but Kurt still refused to look up from the pillow.

"Please look at me, Kurt." Blaine murmured, his hands ghosting up to knead at Kurt's lower back. The taller boy let out a small sigh, be it from the massage or from other emotions, Blaine didn't know. Kurt lifted his hand and grabbed at air, finally finding its place as it became clutched protectively in Blaine's.

"Don't…don't freak out, okay? Do you promise?" Kurt whispered into the fabric. Blaine felt his insides clench, but he held himself together, forcing his voice to come out calmly.

"I promise I won't freak out. Please look at me; I want to see my beautiful boyfriend."

Blaine could feel the muscle's tighten in Kurt's back from nervousness. After a drawn out moment, Kurt lifted his face from the pillow, his eyes shut tightly against spilling tears.

Blaine's breath caught in the back of his throat. His mind froze momentarily and became an empty void of shock. And then, so quickly it could be considered explosive, he filled with frightening, furious emotions, terrifying in their potency and overwhelming in their strength.

The right side of Kurt's face was swollen, stained purple and red from the after effects of blunt force trauma. The bruise wrapped around the curve of his cheekbone, darkening in the middle where it became the border of a long, dark gash, before creeping up underneath his eye and along the slope of his nose and temple. Shiny, watery streaks cut through the middle of it all from recent tears.

Blaine was startled by how he felt; the rage, the protectiveness, the _hurt_. The two things that prevented him from screaming was the fact that he was holding Kurt's hand and that he'd promised not to go postal. He took a deep breath, willing himself to calm down before he did something stupid, like punch a wall. After a few seconds he was coherent again, and he lifted his fingers to Kurt's face, placing feather-light touches along the mark.

"Who…who did this to you?" Blaine asked, cutting to the chase. He wouldn't accept another story this time.

"J-just some of the puck-heads. And Azimio. It's sort of my fault though; I called one of them a hulking Neanderthal."

Before he could process it, Blaine pulled Kurt into a tight hug, molding him against his chest and cradling his face in his palm. He pressed fierce kisses into his boyfriend's hair, breathing in the scent of Kurt's musky shampoo.

"It is _never_ your fault. Do you understand me? Never. I'm so, so sorry Kurt. I'm so sorry…I should have been there to protect you. I knew all of this was happening but I ignored it because you wanted me to; I should have brought more attention to it, I should have been there to stop them, I should have—"

"Shoulda, woulda, coulda." Kurt whispered. Blaine framed Kurt's face with his hands and he angled the boy's face so he could meet his eyes. There were no more tears; instead, they were filled with weary emotion. "Don't beat yourself up over this—no pun intended. It wasn't your fault. There was nothing you could have done, Blaine. Those guys are just ignorant and hateful and stupid, and they're always going to be ignorant and hateful and stupid."

"I'm such a bad boyfriend." Blaine sighed, and rested his forehead against Kurt's, tracing the line of the boy's collar bone before sweeping up to where his neck met his shoulders.

"Hey, don't say that." Kurt chided, his voice regaining some of his former diva power. Blaine smiled tiredly and pulled Kurt up to his level so he could cover the boy's lips with his own. The kiss meant to be apologetic at first, but as Blaine's emotions became translated into the physical, the innocence was overwhelmed with a possessive fervor. Blaine snaked one arm around the taller boy's slender waist and his other hand knotted in Kurt's chestnut hair, pulling him against his chest in a desperate attempt to get closer. His hot breath collided with the soft skin of Kurt's lips as he came up for breath, and then he was diving in again, drowning in the sensations that threatened to end all sensible thought. He ran his fingers up and down the length of Kurt's back, his chest flurrying when he felt Kurt sigh contentedly in his mouth. Blaine took advantage of the moment and thrust in his tongue to meet Kurt's own, tasting a hint of coffee and peppermint and warmth.

His body moved on its own, repositioning both of them so Kurt was lying on the mattress and Blaine was resting on top of him. His hands flew up to cup the boy's cheeks, moving Kurt's face so he could reach deeper.

And then Kurt winced.

Blaine's eyes flew open and he jumped up so quickly it was almost comical.

"Oh—oh god, I'm so sorry, are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Kurt sighed in annoyance, his cheeks flushed from heavy breathing. Blaine ran his hand through the stiff gel in his hair, looking down into his lap guiltily. Thankfully, his uniform pants did a good job of hiding his 'problem', but he couldn't stop feeling as if he had crossed a boundary. He shouldn't have gone that far while Kurt was going through a crisis; it was almost taking advantage of him, right? But, as Blaine had experienced many times before, being that close to Kurt—kissing him and breathing him in—always got him completely unhinged.

"Why did you stop?" Kurt asked quietly.

"Because…because you're vulnerable right now and I should be comforting you, not…getting excited. You don't need that right now, you need support and—"

"Blaine." Kurt interrupted and rolled his eyes. The taller boy reached up and yanked at Blaine's tie, pulling him closer. "I need _you_. So shut up and kiss me, fool."

Blaine let Kurt wrench their lips together again, moving in a synchronized motion until his lungs screamed for air. Once their lips separated, Kurt was attacking his neck, biting down on the fragile skin just underneath Blaine's jaw and sucking hard. The feeling deemed too much for Blaine to handle and he let out a strangled groan.

"Nng…K-kurt…wait—"

"Ugh, _what?_" Kurt growled in exasperation, forcing himself to detach from Blaine's neck. Blaine looked into Kurt's eyes and was startled to see the blown out, lustful pupils. He almost started to reach out again, to jam Kurt deeper into the comforter, but his obnoxious conscience won out.

"I'm sorry, I just—I don't want to do anything that might cause you any pain. Can we please just go upstairs and get you an ice pack? I know it hurts more than you're letting on."

Kurt rolled his eyes again but nodded, allowing Blaine to wiggle out of his grasp so he could stand. Kurt rolled to the edge of the bed and stood, wobbling enough that he had to reach out and steady himself on the bedpost.

"Are you okay?" Blaine asked nervously, darting to his boyfriend's side.

"I'm fine. Please stop worrying about me, okay? It was just a head rush." Kurt sighed. "Look, I don't want you to feel like you have to walk on egg shells with me, alright? I'm not a _complete_ wreck right now, so I'd appreciate it if you would just be normal."

Blaine felt the tugging of a smile on his lips. Kurt was so brave. Braver than he would ever be.

"Okay. No more weirdness, I promise." Blaine murmured, leaning up and pressing a kiss to Kurt's forehead. As he pulled back, he spotted a playful glint in his boyfriend's eye. "What is it?"

"Piggyback me?" Kurt batted his eyelashes and grinned. Blaine chuckled and felt a happy warmth spread through his chest.

"Of course."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I just realized that I hadn't included an author's note in my first chapter, oops **** Anyway, the reason I wrote this was because I was finding it hard to believe that Kurt's experience back at McKinley would suddenly be all sparkles and sunshine. The whole bullywhips thing and the whole 'karofsky suddenly being kurt's protector instead of throwing him in the dumpster' thing was sort of added in out of nowhere. It was just too perfect of a set up for me to go along with it. Haha, as much as I love Kurt dearly, his life can't be that well worked out! **

**Please review XD; this is actually my first time writing a fic, so I'd love to know how I'm doing. Any feedback would be great! **

**Unfortunately, I don't own Glee or any of its characters. **

Chapter Two:

(The Next Morning * Figgins' Office * 8:00 am)

"I am sorry Mister Hummel, but there is nothing I can do! According to your son, only a few of the kids from the hockey team participated in the assault and I can do nothing until I have the names of those exact children involved. I can't suspend the whole hockey team, especially right before an important playoff game coming up this Saturday against Carmel High. It is unfortunate, but technically, my hands are tied."

"Are you joking! You can't take the time to interrogate them? Even issue a warning? What about that Azimio kid from the football team? Kurt _knows_ for a _fact _he was there."

"That is the only student I can rightfully suspend at this time. Everyone else..." Figgins trailed off and made a helpless gesture.

Burt Hummel sat back in the cheap cushioned chair, fuming with indignation. He glared at Principal Figgins silently, unwilling to accept the fact that he failed in defending his son. After a few moments of tense silence, he turned to Kurt in the chair next to him and spoke in a tight, aggravated voice.

"Now, are you absolutely sure you can't name these delinquents? Think hard, Kurt; did you see any of their faces?"

"I'm sure. They came up from behind so I didn't get a chance to see before they…" Kurt trailed off, tensing in his seat as the short, painful memory resurfaced in his mind. He hugged his middle tightly and looked away from his Dad and Figgins. He didn't like the way they were looking at him; the principal's eyes were full of pity and mock-understanding, and his father's full of rage and frustration.

He hated that he was making a habit of frequenting the principal's office. He hated that his name had become associated among the staff well enough for them to know his personal troubles. He hated that he had become the weakling, the one unable to fend for himself, the one always running to Figgin's every time somebody so much as touched him. As much as he loved his father and his willingness to defend him to the death, Kurt wished that sometimes Burt would just let him handle the problems himself. He felt like he was hiding behind his father and using him as a shield.

They ended the meeting just as second period began; Kurt bid Burt farewell before starting down the long narrow hallway, weaving between the few stragglers still left outside of the classrooms. Thankfully, no shoves were sent his way, but Kurt did not miss the students' numerous stares as he made his way to his Spanish class with Mr. Schuester.

"Ah, Buenos días, Kurt. Tiene un pase?" Mr. Schue asked as he walked through the door. Kurt presented him with a signed note from the secretary, keeping his eyes to the floor.

"Bueno. Siéntese por favor."

Kurt took his seat next to Mercedes and opened his binder, not taking notice of his best friend until she poked him forcefully in the side. He turned in his seat to see her normally friendly features contorted in worry.

"Boy, what happened to your face?" She whispered. Kurt's hand automatically drew up to touch the tender area around his eye and cheek. He had managed to cover most of it that morning with concealer, but some of the darkish purple continued to show through, too opaque to hide completely.

"It's a long story. You'll probably hear all the details by glee class anyway."

"Nuh-uh, I wan't the story now. Did someone hurt you?"

"Mercedes, Silencio!" Mr. Schue called, interrupting the lesson on preterit verbs. Mercedes mouthed 'sorry!' to her teacher and slunk down in her seat. After Mr. Schue resumed talking, she reached into her binder and retrieved a piece of lined paper.

_Plz tell me. I luv you and I wanna help. _

_**It's really nothing. Just another run in with the brood of cultureless simpletons.**_

___When did it happen?_

_ '__**Cedes, you shouldn't worry about it, you have enough on your mind as it is what with the solo and the **_

Mercedes snatched the paper away from Kurt and wrote in big, bold letters:

_WHEN?_

Kurt sighed and twirled his pen, glancing up once to make sure Mr. Schue was still totally wrapped up in his lesson.

_**Yesterday right after school. I was walking to my car and they ambushed me from behind. That ape Azimio got in one good swipe and then the rest of them tossed me in the dumpster. I was wearing my favorite khaki saddle shoes! Do you know how hard it is to keep khaki colored shoes clean? My god it took me hours to get out the grime stains, ugh!**_

___Why do you always do that?_

_**Do what?**_

___Transfer____the pain onto something less important._

Kurt looked at the paper for a moment and read over the same line again and again, feeling the simple statement pierce through him in a way none other could. A feeling that he couldn't place rained down on him and he froze like that, eyes tracing the loops of Mercedes' cursive until they became ingrained in his memory permanently. After what seemed like a very long time, he felt her nudge him gently with her elbow. Kurt looked up to see her gazing at him with loving concern.

He took a shaky breath and touched his pen to the paper again.

_**I don't know what you're talking about. **_

___Yes you do. _She replied stubbornly, frowning pointedly at Kurt. He felt the remainder of his shields crash down, and suddenly he was out in the open. She gestured for him to respond, to explain himself, and he obliged, nodding at her weakly.

_**It's just **_

__Kurt paused in his writing, wondering how to communicate the buzzing frenzy of emotions into a few words. His pen quivered slightly and he forced back the sudden lump in his throat.

_**easier that way I suppose. **_

__Mercedes read the remainder of his sentence and threw her arms around Kurt's small frame, resting her head on one of his shoulders comfortingly. Kurt felt the achingly familiar clenching of his chest as he fought to keep down tears. Allowing himself to relax in her embrace, Kurt rested his head on top of his friend's in a sign of gratitude, taking a deep breath to calm the jittering nerves.

"Kurt, you know I'll always be here for you. I got your back." Mercedes said, not bothering to whisper.

Mr. Schue turned to quiet her again, but when he took in the sight of the two students, the strange feeling of warmth and sadness convinced him to let it slide.

"KURT! There you are!" Rachel shouted from down the hallway, making Kurt pause in his tracks. It was lunch time and he was making his way down to the cafeteria, hoping that today there would be something relatively healthy and low-calorie instead of the usual artery clogging choices. Rachel bounded over to him in what looked to be wool schoolgirl stockings and ballet slippers, both of completely unflattering colors.

"Hello Rachel." Kurt breathed, preparing himself for the onslaught of questions he had already received from numerous members of the glee club.

"I heard about what happened and I am truly, _truly_ sorry. If you want to press charges on the school or the puck-heads or Coach Jenkins or anybody my dads have a very prominent connection with our local branch of the ACLU and I'm sure that they would be completely happy to provide any sort of legal support that you might need to take down the entire system; there's so many things you can sue for like emotional trauma, or assault, or attempted manslaughter—"

"Ah—thank you Rachel, but I'm not suing anybody. I don't think the case would hold up in court anyway." Kurt interrupted, unwilling to hear the rest, especially after the word 'manslaughter' somehow found its way into the conversation.

"Okay, that's fine." She smiled understandingly, but the hint of a frown suggested that she was a bit disappointed there wouldn't be any dramatic turmoil. "Just know that if you need anyone to lean on, glee club is here for you. Noah already vowed to beat Azimio senseless and Finn almost got pulled out of class for threatening the hockey captain." She declared proudly, pushing open the door to the cafeteria. The smell of grease covered tacos hit them both like a brick wall.

"That's um…great? I don't want Puckerman or Finn getting in trouble for me though. Maybe you should talk to them and try to calm them down."

Rachel nodded seriously, switching from bubbly to businesslike in a second.

"I agree. No offense Kurt, you know how much I feel for you right now, but we also have to take Nationals into consideration too. If Finn and Noah were suspended, the club would be in shambles! I need Finn's leading male vocals to accentuate my voice in duets and the group needs Noah's bad boy façade to complete our stage presence and without them we would certainly lose and I would go into a deep state of depression and possibly give up all hope and never make it to Broadway and—" Rachel's voice escalated in pitch and her words tripped over themselves. Kurt put a forceful hand on her shoulder and told her to stop worrying, calm down, take a deep breath.

After Kurt picked up his usual salad and breadsticks from the lunch line—sticking his nose up at the tacos at the same time—he turned and caught sight of the table full of glee kids. He began to make his way over to his usual seat, but was stopped by the hockey team. They convened around him in a semi-circle, sneering at the delicate meal on his tray, cracking their knuckles eagerly. One of them, the tallest and bulkiest of the bunch stepped forward from the imaginary boundary and addressed Kurt.

"Hey homo. How do you like the little badge of honor we gave ya? Looks great by the way, but next time maybe you should leave off the makeup and acknowledge that fact that you have balls, not boobs."

The blood in Kurt's face seemed to drain down into his feet. He couldn't seem to consciously move his limbs. There was a faint rattling noise and he looked down to see his salad bowl clinking against the quivering tray.

"Hello, Kyle." Kurt choked out from between his teeth. He sounded a lot bolder than he felt, and for that he was thankful. "Nice seeing you again. Now if you'll excuse me, I would like to go eat my lunch."

The team didn't budge. Kyle's face turned dark and menacing and he took a step towards Kurt, towering over him and casting his shadow onto the boy's skin.

"You'd better watch it, faggot. We don't want you near us; who knows what you might do? We came to give you a warning. If you so much as look in our direction again, you'll get more than just a whack to the face, you hear?" Kyle growled threateningly. Kurt's temper boiled beneath the film of fright, and against his better judgment, he snapped back at them.

"Funny how _you_ guys always seem to find _me_. Can't get enough of me, can you? Maybe _you're_ gay."

"What did you say to me, Hummel? I'll beat you until you can't think straight!"

The hockey team's circle tightened around Kurt and suddenly Kurt was kicking himself for talking. He was gearing himself up to run, to just drop his food and sprint out of the school, but someone's voice rose from above the mass of hulking boys.

"Hey puck heads! Get your asses away from my bro."

The hockey team turned on their heels to find Finn glaring at them in anger, flanked by Puckerman, Sam, and Mike Chang.

"What is this? Homo Palooza?" Kyle scoffed, but his bloodlust was gone. He fixed the glee boys with a hard stare before turning to the rest of his team.

"C'mon guys. Let's go before we catch their disease."

Slowly the group of jocks dispersed, leaving the glee boys and Kurt alone in the center of the cafeteria. Kurt stood white faced and shaking, not noticing when Finn and the guys put their arms around his shoulders and led him back to the table.

**A/N: I know this chapter doesn't have any Blaine in it (sorry!), but I promise he'll be in the next chapter! I just needed to introduce all of the friends who are basically Kurt's support structure. Some of you may be wondering, 'where's Karofsky in all this?'. I don't think I'm planning on including him as a bully in the story. Don't get me wrong, I do like his character, but I'm sorta tired of all the bullying being done exclusively by Karofsky. I needed a little change. I think next chapter is gonna start a couple weeks/months after this; I need to get away from all of the angst. **


	3. Chapter 3

** A/N: So I just went back and read over my previous chapters and *gasp* there were typos! Sorry bout that, haha XD. I don't have a beta so I won't be able to pick up those things all the time, but luckily they weren't too bad. Anywaaay, this chapter picks up about a month after the incident so expect some Klaine-ness because Kurt is basically over the whole thing and he doesn't need any more special treatment from Blaine. **

** Hope you like it! **

Chapter Three:

"So…tell me again why you want me to sign up for a taekwondo class?" Kurt asked his father over his dinner of lean turkey breast and soy beans.

"Well, as much as you'd like to think the whole bullying thing is over since they haven't bothered you in a while, it's not." Burt replied somberly, picking at his beans unenthusiastically with his fork. "I know how these things work. They get in trouble, they stop, and everything seems hunky-dory. But really they're just waiting out on the sideline until the storm blows over, and as soon as they see an opportune moment, they'll start again. I don't want you to get hurt again, Kurt. And as much as I admire your bravery through all of this, being brave is not going to protect you from their fists. If you thought what they did to your face was bad, just wait until get back into action. They're gonna be twice as angry and twice as violent and you might not be able to just walk away next time."

Kurt eyed his father compassionately, smiling over how much Burt cared for him. Kurt had even been offered the chance to transfer back to Dalton, but he refused to switch schools _again_; it would just be ridiculous.

"Yes, but…even with the right training, I'd probably not put up much of a fight anyway. Those guys weigh, like, two hundred pounds each."

"But at least you would have a sporting chance. And it would give me some peace of mind, you know?" Burt gave a sad half smile. Kurt still wasn't convinced, but he nodded thoughtfully. Neither of them spoke for a few minutes, but after watching his dad push his beans around and not eat them, Kurt spoke up.

"Dad, at the risk of sounding completely cliché, you really should eat your vegetables."

"I know, I know…heart healthy and what not…"

Kurt chuckled at his Dad's childlike reluctance and went back to his own dinner. After they finished, Kurt began to work at washing the dishes while Burt watched a game in the next room over.

"I still don't think I see the point in signing up for that class." Kurt called over the sound of the cheering crowd emanating from the speakers. Burt didn't reply at first; instead, he toyed around with an idea in his head for a moment.

"You know," Kurt's father began. "Blaine told me that he'd do it too if you joined. He even said he would give you a ride home after every session. Maybe I'd even let you guys hang out for a while afterwards." Burt turned in his position on the sofa to see Kurt's expression and was happy to find his son grinning from ear to ear.

"Really?" Kurt said, swelling with happiness and excitement. Blaine would sign up too? That meant they would be able to spend more time together; they would be able to see each other for more than just Wednesdays and weekends. His chest fluttered as he thought of the possibilities of 'hanging out' with Blaine, and to his horror, his cheeks flushed a vibrant red. Kurt quickly turned away from his Dad's gaze and pretended to inspect a dish closely. "Y-yeah, that actually sounds great. Now that I think about it, taekwondo is really good exercise and with Blaine I wouldn't be alone in the class. And, you know, when we get back we could just—erm—chill and watch a movie or something and relax and…and do homework and…stuff…"

"That's my boy." Burt exclaimed as he tried to keep down a laugh. Eventually he turned back to the game and cheered on his team with the rest of the fans, leaving Kurt to wallow hilariously in his own self embarrassment.

"Kurt, are you ready?" Blaine called through the doorway to the basement. He had been waiting at least ten minutes for Kurt to come upstairs, but Kurt was still obsessing over his uniform.

Downstairs, Kurt turned his body around in the mirror, inspecting the clothing from all angles. He had obtained one of the standard white uniforms—he learned later that it was called a 'dobok'— from the instructor the day he'd signed up. Originally, he was appalled at the simple, white ensemble, saying it had no uniqueness or originality. That was before he'd tried it on, of course. Now, as he stood in his mirror, he began to admire the way the dobok fit him. The belt accentuated his waist marvelously and flared out at the hips; the straight pant leg was simple and powerful, and for some odd reason gave Kurt confidence.

"Yeah, I'm coming! Hold on…" Kurt yelled back, giving himself one last once over before turning to grab his knapsack and running up the stairs.

Kurt very nearly pummeled Blaine over as he leapt through the doorway, throwing his arms around his boyfriend in a vice like grip.

"Hey gorgeous." Kurt whispered in Blaine's ear, loving the way his boyfriend shivered at the seductive tone. Kurt pulled back far enough to give a chaste kiss on the lips; knowing his father was around somewhere, he didn't want to get too into it. There would be ample time for that later.

"Wow Kurt, you look…" Blaine trailed off as he examined the boy standing in front of him. Kurt looked positively radiant in the uniform, and Blaine couldn't help but notice Kurt was shirtless underneath it. His eyes caught on the smooth planes of Kurt's chest disappearing beneath the lining of the collar and he swallowed heavily, wrenching his eyes away from the area and back up to Kurt's face. He wasn't muscular, but he was _toned _and Blaine fought against the urge to drag him back downstairs and embark on an entirely different kind of exercise. Blaine subconsciously ran his tongue over his lips and Kurt gave him a knowing stare.

"You like it? Looks like you do." The taller boy said cheekily. "I felt like I would overheat with another layer under this so I decided to go commando from the waist up. What do you think?"

Blaine had to recover from the word 'commando' and didn't reply at first. Sudden images of dead kittens and old people appeared in his mind like a reflex. All he could get out at the moment was a choked "Uh huh."

"Great! Let's go!" Kurt grabbed Blaine's hand and began to lead him away. "Bye Dad! See you later tonight!"

"Goodbye boys." Burt called from somewhere in the house.

Kurt and Blaine arrived at the community center after a good fifteen minutes. By then Blaine was back to normal and could speak in coherent sentences. They made their way into the dojang, as it was called, and greeted their instructor, a muscular middle aged man named Tom. However, as it was customary to abide by the principle of respect, the boys were ordered to call him "sir" at all times. Kurt and Blaine giggled at this and then were immediately given a punishment of twenty pushups.

The first half of the class was spent on cardio and muscular fitness and striking. By the time they were allowed a water break, Blaine was panting from exertion. Kurt stood gracefully by his side and took small sips of water, watching in amusement as Blaine steadied himself on the wall.

"How…in god's name…are you not…_tired_?" Blaine wheezed, gulping down his water without restraint. Kurt pursed his lips to contain his laughter, gazing fondly at how Blaine's curls were starting to escape the hold of the gel. Each lock curled adorably around the frame of his face, and Kurt reached out and twirled on around his finger, eventually tucking it back in place behind the shorter boy's ear.

"I work out regularly, that's why. Looks like somebody's a little out of shape…You know, despite the fact that you're covered in sweat and suffocating, you look really cute right now."

"It's great to know…that you're turned on by suffering." Blaine huffed jokingly. He took another swig of water and slid down to the floor, patting the foam mat beside him as an invitation. Kurt adjusted himself so they sat shoulder to shoulder and rested his head against Blaine's. A few of the other class members gave them strange looks, but Kurt refused to bat an eyelash.

"Buck up Blaine, we still have another forty-five minutes to go. You can't poop out on me now."

"Kurt, I see the light. I think I'm dying."

"Sure you are." Kurt replied. He mulled something over in his head for a minute and then looked back at his boyfriend, smiling mischievously. "You know what, Blaine? I always find that working out makes time fly much faster. And I know you're totally looking forward to that 'movie' we're gonna watch later, and I have a feeling that 'movie' will be spectacular and _so_ worth this, so how about you get through the rest of this with me and right after we get home we can watch that 'movie' as long as we want."

Blaine froze and stared out at the room with wide, darkened eyes, and Kurt grinned victoriously as he watched his boyfriend's lips part from the mental images. He knew he'd won this battle before Blaine had even stood up again.

"O-Okay. Forty-five minutes, huh? That's not so bad, now that I think about it."

Kurt chuckled and followed his boyfriend back out onto the floor, stretching his arms above his head for the next round of sparring.

"But you said right after we got home, Kurt!" Blaine whined, staring hungrily at Kurt's shirtless form as the taller boy strode around his room, scrounging up clothes to wear for after his shower. Burt had gone back to work at the garage and the boys had the house to themselves.

"Blaine Anderson, there is no way I'm making out with you in my nasty, sweat covered, post-workout state. I'm taking a shower first and that's final."

"Ugh, but I don't _care_ if you're sweaty."

"Well, I do. There's a shower upstairs too, so I'll get you a towel and some clothes and you can get yourself clean."

Blaine ran his hands over his face and groaned, knowing he was defeated. He looked up when Kurt offered him an undershirt and a pair of sweatpants, as well as a towel, soap, and a bottle of shampoo and conditioner. Blaine tucked the items under his arm with a sigh and looked back at his boyfriend, indulging himself with the sight of Kurt's ridiculously sensuous upper body. God, how he wanted to just take the boy and shove him into a wall and just…

Restraint, Blaine, restraint.

"So how long are your showers, usually?" Blaine asked begrudgingly.

"Oh, about twenty minutes to a half hour."

Blaine's eyes bulged. "_What?_ Kurt—Kurt I can't wait that long!"

"Oh, you're such a complainer." Kurt sighed dramatically. "Okay, I'll hurry it up just for you. But patience is a virtue, Blaine."

"I don't have a high capacity for patience. Like, with T.V. shows, I barely last an entire week without going crazy for the next episode. I have to scour the internet for spoilers."

Something about that statement clicked in Kurt's brain and he smiled diabolically, taking a few steps towards Blaine until they were mere inches apart. His hands slowly snaked up the front of the boy's uniform, creeping underneath the cotton t-shirt Blaine had worn behind the dobok. Kurt curled his fingers slightly and let his nails scratch tantalizingly down Blaine's front, his boyfriend's breath catching in his throat as the small tinge of pain swirled beautifully with the pleasure.

"You want a spoiler?" Kurt murmured, smiling devilishly at the amount of need in his boyfriend's eyes. Blaine nodded, his eye's glazing over as Kurt leaned in fast and crushed their lips together. Kurt moved his arms aggressively to Blaine's shoulders and moved him backwards until they hit a nearby wall, ravishing the slightly shorter boy with a gratuitous amount of teeth and tongue, fisting his fingers through the gelled hair as he moved against him forcefully.

"_God Kurt—_" Blaine groaned as he came up for breath. Kurt refused to leave his boyfriend's skin, attaching himself to Blaine's neck and pressing hot, sloppy kisses into the sensitive space of his throat. He grabbed his boyfriend's hips and ground them against his own, grinning wildly as he heard the strain of incomprehensible noises pour from Blaine's mouth in a dizzying flurry of desire. The sounds were silenced again as Kurt wrenched their lips back together, jamming Blaine back into the plaster wall and pressing the bare skin of his chest against him, breathing hard into the other boy's mouth and rolling his body against him again and again.

And then Kurt stopped.

He stepped back calmly and resumed his search for a washcloth, leaving Blaine shaking and gasping for breath.

"K-Kurt…_whyyyy?_" Blaine moaned. His eyes were shut tight and he had to lean back into the wall for support.

"I said it was a spoiler, didn't I?" Kurt remarked, idly comparing two different colored shirts he'd picked up in his search. "That doesn't mean it's the whole thing. You need to read up on your vocabulary, baby. Which shirt should I wear, the red one or the blue one?"

"Ughh…"

"Yup, I like the blue one better too. Now go upstairs and shower and then we can resume if you want. Or you can take care of your little 'issue' and we can come back down here and actually watch a movie. Like a _movie_ movie, not a sexual innuendo movie."

Blaine let out another groan and trudged upstairs to the shower, dragging his towel along behind him.

**A/N: Yaaay! Some long awaited Klaine-ness! Aw, Kurt's so cruel to Blaine, but it's so funny so I just had to include it. **

** Now, pertaining to the story's future: I have a few ideas and plot lines buzzing in my head, but I'm still not sure if I should keep this at under five chapters or if I should keep on writing and make it longer. If anyone has any ideas for plots or any opinions on how the story is coming along, please feel free to review or message me. Thanks for reading!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Not much to say here for this one. It's basically shameless fluff with a bit of plot. I'm still trying to figure out how to set it all up, so for now I'm just writing what I feel.**

**!Ok, so here's what you need to know for this chapter. Rachel is single, Finn is still broken up with Quinn, and Quinn is still broken up with Sam. **

Kurt swayed rhythmically in the back of the room as Rachel belted out one of her numerous solos, the usual emotional tears glinting in her eyes and spilling over dramatically. Most of what he sang consisted of 'ahs' and 'da da das', so a glee practice never went by without some form of envy directed towards the dark haired girl. In that moment, Kurt was feeling particularly jealous, especially because the song Rachel was singing was one of his all time favorites from Le Miserables. He used to sing 'On My Own' every night in the shower; granted, it was his go-to self pity song during the friendship phase with Blaine, but he still loved the way his voice sounded when he sang it. The notes would echo off the tiles just so, and all of his problems and stresses from the day would melt away. The deep rooted connection between him and that song was too strong to simply let go of.

So it was perfectly understandable that Kurt began to imagine Rachel choking to death on her own tears. At least, he thought it was.

"_I love him…I love him…I love him…But only on my own._" Rachel's voice fell into a gradual decrescendo, the fluid sound seeping from the air of the room and condensing until it was no more than a breathy whisper. Kurt felt awed chills rush up and down his spine; just because he was jealous didn't mean he couldn't appreciate true talent when he saw it. Rachel bowed her head and gave a meek smile to Mr. Schue before she sat back down among the rest of her group mates.

Kurt thought her behavior unusual before he caught a glimpse of her gazing longingly at Finn from across the room. _Ah, that's what's wrong with her. _

His heart, hardened by years of blatant peer abuse, softened a little at the sight of her sorrow. He too had felt the feeling of wanting what you couldn't have; it was miserable, and with an overly dramatic girl like Rachel, it had to be pure hell.

Kurt pondered this one day after taekwondo practice. After showering and moisturizing he plopped down on the couch next to Blaine and laid his head down in his boyfriend's lap, staring up at the boy he loved inquisitively. Blaine tangled his fingers in Kurt's damp hair and massaged his scalp lightly before noticing Kurt's incessant staring.

"What is it?"

"I have a proposition for you." Kurt replied as he relaxed in Blaine's hands. "And that feels really good by the way."

Blaine's eyes crinkled into a smile and he chuckled. "You're welcome. What's the proposition?"

"I was thinking of throwing a party and inviting everyone from glee. At my house, of course, I know how you don't really like yours. I could send my dad and Carol on a trip, and then we could decorate the whole main floor with lights and candles and make the place beautiful…and of course Puckerman would bring some sort of alcohol or something but it would be fine because everybody could sleep over and then in the morning I could make French omletes or crepes and it would be perfect. You can invite Wes and David or anyone from the Warblers and we can do karaoke. What do you say?"

Blaine cocked his head to the side, contemplation flashing across his features.

"Sure, that sounds like a great idea. But…"

"But?"

"What brought this on?" Blaine asked. His inflection wasn't accusatory or conspiratorial; he was just curious. "You've never wanted to do this kind of thing before."

"Well, if you really want to know…" Kurt started, twiddling his thumbs together. "I do actually have an ulterior motive. What would you say if I asked you to be my partner in matchmaking?"

Blaine's eyebrows furrowed together confusedly. "What?"

"I want to get Rachel and Finn back together. I know, it's crazy, but lately she's just been so miserable and lonely and it makes me depressed to look at her. Since Finn is no longer dating Quinn, I was thinking that during the party we could, I dunno, guide the two back into each other's arms." Kurt paused and waited for an answer from Blaine, but there was none. "It's—it's stupid. Never mind, I shouldn't be meddling—"

"When did you become such a hopeless romantic like me?" Blaine interrupted him, love filling his eyes as he framed Kurt's face with his hands.

"Hey, it's not my fault I turned out this way. I used to be cynical and somewhat bitchy before I met you." Kurt laughed, placing his hand over the ones cupping his cheeks.

"Unbelievable. I refuse to believe that."

"Well it's true. Because of you, I now have a heart. And that heart is telling me that it doesn't want Rachel to end up how I was: Alone and cold. Of all people, it just…it just can't happen to _her_."

Blaine stared down at Kurt with an emotion he couldn't decipher.

"I mean, I know I act like I hate her sometimes but, Blaine, she's like the rock that holds glee club together. She has so much drive and hope…I don't want her to lose all of that, you know?"

"Yeah…yeah I know." Blaine murmured, still staring at Kurt with the same expression. He brushed his thumb across the curve of Kurt's cheekbone idly before bending down to press his forehead to Kurt's, taking a deep breath to capture to scent of the boy in his lap and keep it forever. After a moment, Blaine tilted his head and placed a long, tender kiss to Kurt's parted lips, experiencing an emotion he'd never stopped long enough to appreciate in its fullness. A glowing warmth bloomed in his chest and crept its way up to his throat, cutting off his speech as it literally drowned him in happiness, and after their lips separated he just stayed there bent over Kurt, breathing him in, content to remain in that position for the rest the evening, maybe even the rest of his life.

Later that evening when Burt returned home from the garage he found the two boys fast asleep on the sofa, entwined in each other's arms, the credits of Phantom of the Opera rolling up past the edges of the blackened screen.

* * *

><p>Two days later, Kurt was balancing tip toed on a chair, trying to string up the last of the Christmas lights along the edges of the ceiling.<p>

"Blaine? Blaine can you get me some more tape? I'm all out." Kurt asked frantically, his eyes still locked on the cord hanging precariously in front of him.

"Kurt, baby, these are your friends. You don't have to try to impress them." Blaine's voice came from behind him. Kurt grabbed the roll of tape and tore a piece off with his teeth, securing the section in place. "Blaine, I couldn't care less about impressing them; I just need this to be perfect." He bit his lip thoughtfully as he surveyed the room, appreciating the hours of work he put in to achieve the immaculate vision that now was his main floor. Eventually he stepped down from his perch, mere seconds passing before he felt Blaine's arms snake around his waist from behind, pulling him against his chest.

"You did an amazing job. It looks lovely and romantic and our devious little plan is _so_ going to work."

"It does, doesn't it…? Look romantic? It sort of reminds me of a French bistro."

"Speaking of French, can I show you the pièce de résistance?" Blaine did a miniature drum roll on Kurt's stomach with his fingers before detaching himself and strolled over to the far wall where the dial for the regular lights rested. He dimmed them gradually until shadows stretched out from corners like wispy, beckoning fingers. Then he sauntered away to grab the cord to the Christmas lights, holding the end in his hands and waggling his eyebrows teasingly at Kurt before forcing the prongs through the waiting socket.

Kurt stared in wonder as the darkness illuminated with the bright, sparkling orbs, throwing their own individual crescents of light down the length of the walls in tiny, cylindrical pillars of white and gold. A painfully wide smile overtook Kurt's awed face.

"_I love it! I love it I love it I love it ohmygod I love it!_ Blaaaine…Blaine, it's so pretty…" Kurt giggled like an excited schoolgirl and dashed over to his boyfriend, pulling him in for a quick—but still very passionate—kiss. Blaine's arms reached up to trap the boy against him, but Kurt out maneuvered him and bounded away to inspect the rest of the house, leaving Blaine standing alone and slightly flustered. He could hear Kurt squealing from down the hallway and he looked around at the sight before him, drinking it all in.

The living room alone was spectacular; simply standing there reminded Blaine of being wrapped in a blanket, or sitting by a toasty fire, or drinking a cup of coffee, or…basically anything _warm_. That's what it was; it was warm and the atmosphere was entrancing. Soon, he began to smell the heady scent of vanilla wafting through the air around him and he turned to see Kurt blowing out a burnt match above a now burning scented candle.

"Vanilla?" Blaine asked casually, making his way over to Kurt's side, enjoying the way the light of the flame flickered around the boy's eyes.

"Yeah…why, is it too much? It's too much, isn't it?" Kurt's excitement briefly contorted into panic.

"No no no it's not. I like it." Blaine assured him, pulling Kurt against him and nuzzling his nose into Kurt's hair. "Mmm, but I like the way you smell better."

"Blaine." Kurt said flatly, though his hands were beginning to slide their way up the shorter boy's torso. "Our guests are arriving in ten minutes. Don't even think about it."

"…'s you're fault." Blaine muttered into Kurt's neck. "…shouldn't have kissed me like that…"

"Jeez," Kurt groaned, half annoyed and half turned on. "Puck hasn't even arrived with the booze and you're already so handsy. What am I going to do with you?"

Blaine snickered against the skin of Kurt's throat and slid his hands greedily into the back pockets of Kurt's ridiculously tight designer jeans. "I can think of _a lot_ of things you could do with me."

"Blaine," Kurt tried to growl, but his voice broke and squeaked. "Now is not the time, they're coming in _ten minutes_—"

But Kurt's stubborn rebuke was cut off as Blaine's lips crushed hungrily against his. Blaine's hands gripped roughly through Kurt's pants as he yanked their hips together to create that delicious friction, and Kurt's attempts at reasoning were all but eliminated.

"Y-you're so lucky that—_ah_—my parents are at the Hilton right now because we would—_guh—_be dead if my Dad walked in and just—" But his babbling was cut off by yet another heated kiss, his lips parting invitingly as Blaine's tongue swept across them, the shorter boy's hands moving up to clutch Kurt's lower back and to tangle in his hair. Normally, Kurt would protest at the threat of messing up his perfect coif, but something about the entire atmosphere seemed hypnotizing and heavy and…and _sexy_. The low lighting, the night outside, the smell of the candles—it was a cocoon of sensory overload. No wonder Blaine was like he was—he'd just felt the mood before Kurt had the chance to come down from his post-decorating high.

"Crap…" Kurt sighed as he came up for breath.

"What's wrong?" Blaine asked, his voice still husky as he pulled back up to meet Kurt's eyes. Kurt appraised his boyfriend with a pleased smile, seeing as Blaine's lips were somewhat red and swollen and his pupils were blown out with lust.

"Do you realize what I've inadvertently done by using this decorum? Look at what it's done to you; you're so horny you can't even speak right. Now imagine what it's going to be like with a hoard of half-drunken teenagers in here. I'm going to have a sex riot on my hands."

Blaine shrugged, obviously not as concerned—or coherent enough to care—as Kurt seemed to be. "Don't worry; they're just glee kids. How bad can they be?"

Kurt was about to start laughing hysterically, but the sharp chiming of the doorbell sounded from the foyer and the bubbly feeling caught in his throat. The nervous-host syndrome kicked in and he raced to the door with Blaine in tow, pausing to smooth down his hair before yanking the door open.

"Whas-sup Hummel?"

Kurt stared at the sight before him, taking in the buzzed, slouched over forms of Puckerman and Lauren on his doorstep, both holding what looked to be a keg of Heineken . Puck grinned dopily up at Kurt and Blaine, throwing his muscular arm around Lauren before taking the few, teetering steps needed to get through the threshold of the door.

"Whoa dude yer house is—it's so cool 'n stuff—" Puck slurred unashamedly as he stumbled into the hallway, heading back to the kitchen where he could stick the large container of alcohol.

Kurt followed warily, keeping his hand on Blaine's who had finally been shocked out of his lusty daze.

He's—he's _already _wasted?" Blaine whispered in Kurt's ear as they trailed the happy couple into the living room where they promptly crashed onto the couch and started giggling hysterically. Kurt and Blaine stood a safe distance away and gaped openly.

"I guess so. That was quick." Kurt replied quietly.

Soon afterward the doorbell rang again and Mercedes, Brittany, Santana, Tina, Mike, Artie and Sam piled in, luckily all completely sober. After getting settled into the living room, Kurt and Blaine answered the door to Quinn, who seemed to have driven there by herself, and Rachel who followed close behind after being dropped off by her dads.

Just as they were about to shut the door, however, Kurt heard a friendly shout from the dark street and turned to see his two old Dalton friends, Wes and David, walking up the driveway. Blaine's face lit up in a smile and he pulled the two into a bro-hug, clapping them on the shoulders as they entered the party. Kurt warmed internally as he watched Blaine interact with his best friends; he seemed so happy. Finally, Kurt shut the door and went over to the stereo system mounted on the wall of the living room and turned on the radio, surrendering the choice of channel to the glee kids who fought over Top Twenty versus Eighties Hits.

As everyone helped themselves to soda and beer, Blaine pulled Kurt over to the side.

"Um, where's Finn? Cuz I don't think our plan will work without him."

"Oh my god, wow I completely forgot about him." Kurt said, smacking his forehead. "He said this morning he would be over at Puck's house—"

But as soon as Kurt began he heard the front door burst open and angry footsteps pound through the hallway. Finn's agitated figure rounded the corner, his eyes sweeping the crowd of teenagers until they found their mark.

"Puck! Dude! I told you to wait for me, man!" He yelled across the room at the mohawked boy. Puck turned lazily in his seat as he heard his name called and took in Finn's bristling irritation.

"Speak of the devil…" Kurt whispered to Blaine as he looked over his step-brother, happily discovering that Finn was still completely alert.

"Heyyy! Hudson, howssit going! Ohmygod did I forget about you? Dude, I'm s-so sorry, I guess you were takin' a piss an' we just sorda left—L-Lauren, did you know we accidentally left Finn a-at my place? Jeez…"

"Yeah, thanks a lot for that. I had to ask your mom for a ride, Puck! What the hell?" Finn dragged a heavy hand through his hair. "And I can't believe you _drove_ here in _my_ car! You could have gotten yourself killed. You could have wrecked! You know how much time me and Burt put into that thing to get it running? You're like the crappiest drunk friend ever, dude. Ever."

Kurt decided to step in at this point, seeing as the house had gotten uncomfortably quiet. He put a hand on Finn's arm and led him into the empty kitchen.

"Hey, hey calm down, nothing bad happened. Just relax and have fun, okay?" Kurt said soothingly, patting Finn's shoulder. Finn let out a tense sigh and nodded, but the frustrated furrow of his brow never lifted. Instead, he just frowned in Puck's direction and turned away to get a non-alcoholic soda, joining the rest of the group a minute after and sitting silently on one of the pulled up chairs.

Kurt stared worriedly as the conversations picked up again to their normal volume, noticing how once in a while Rachel would send sad, lingering glances over in the quarterback's direction. Finn seemed intent on not having a good time, avoiding social interaction at all costs, not even noticing when Brittany decided it would be fun to give out free hugs and lap dances.

As his lips pulled sullenly downwards, Kurt ambled back into the kitchen and grabbed himself a Ginger Ale, suddenly not in the mood to get buzzed. Getting Rachel and Finn back together would be loads harder than he originally anticipated.

* * *

><p>Blaine's POV:<p>

Getting Mercedes to spill Kurt's secrets was incredibly easy when the girl was loosened up with a bit of booze; Blaine didn't know why he hadn't thought of it sooner. He sat on one of the ottomans across from her and listened as she rambled on and on about a multitude of things regarding his boyfriend, like how Kurt was most ticklish around the back of his neck, how he loved baby blue scarves with a burning passion, how he aspired to become a fashion designer and sing on Broadway, that he had a expansive collection of Vogue magazines lining a hidden shelf in his room—but Blaine already knew all of these things. He tuned out of the conversation a bit at first, but after Mercedes downed the first glass, certain things she said began to peak his interest.

"And boy, I dunno how many times I have to listen to him say this, but he loovves it when you don't gel your curly little hair. Did you know that? He says it all the _time_, all the time! He says to me, 'Cedes, you know how damn sexy Blaine is when he lets his hair go? I jus' wanna jump his bones sometimes.' And—and I say, 'Well, Kurt, why dontchu?' And he jus' smiles and blushes and ohmy_goodness_ Blaine Anderson, you scored the most adorable guy ever!"

"Did…did he really say that?" Blaine asked, his eyes wide with excitement and surprise. He touched the hardened gel currently in his hair, trying to imagine what Kurt's reaction would be if he did indeed let it go natural when he was around.

"Every word, baby! Ooh—let me let you in on a little secret!" She squealed, leaning towards Blaine as if she was telling him something highly confidential. "He has a thing for when you wear just a white tank top and skinny jeans."

"Seriously? You mean, like an undershirt tank? Like a wife beater?"

"Yuuup."

"Wow…" Blaine breathed, turning away from Mercedes who had broken out into random laughter. A faint smile breached his lips and he began scheming like no tomorrow.

* * *

><p>Kurt's POV<p>

"Okaaay! Listen up!" Rachel shouted, swaying slightly as she stood up regally on the couch. "'S time for spin the boddle! 'S gonna be a tradition—we're gonna do this at every party! Okay?" She flourished her arms grandly, making Kurt cringe as the beer in her hand threatened to slosh over the edge of her cup.

"Rachel, we don't have any beer bottles. Puckerman brought a keg." Kurt said, willing her to get down from the couch without tipping over. Rachel looked immediately downtrodden.

"Wait-wait-wait! I have some empty boddles!" Puck yelled, even though the room was mostly quiet. "Lauren an' I got a six pack b-before the party…there's some empties in my car, lemme go get 'em."

A minute later, Puck returned with a few of the empty Budweiser's, dumping them on the floor. The rest of the group congregated in a circle around the pile; Kurt wedged himself between David and Mercedes, leaning into the middle and taking out the extra bottles until they were left with only one in the center. As he took his seat again, his eyes scanned to circle to find that Blaine wasn't there.

"'Cedes, have you seen Blaine?" Kurt asked, eyeing his friend with concern as she seemed to be smiling dazedly at the bottle in the center.

"Wha? Blaine. Nah, I haven't. He's probably in the bathroom, honey, don't worry."

"Kay, everybody shuddup!" Rachel barked shrilly, leaning forward and giving the bottle a good spin. It rotated around for a minute before landing on Mike Chang. They gave each other a quick peck, ignoring the loud catcalls from the rest of the glee kids, and sat back down in their spots. Mike spent the next minute consoling a drunk Tina, telling her that he loved her over and over and that it was only a game.

And so it went on in basically the same fashion until everyone in the circle had gone, including Kurt who had landed on Brittany. In a way he'd been relieved; at least it hadn't landed on one of the guys or Santana. That would have been awkward.

"God, where is he?" Kurt wondered aloud as the cycle started again, this time with Rachel landing on Artie. The whooping noises drowned out any sound of Blaine's approach, so Kurt did not hear him as he made his way up the basement stairs and to the entrance of the living room. Kurt was too intent on the game to notice as Blaine leaned casually against the wall, watching the proceedings with an aloof interest. Only until Mercedes yelled, "Hey Warbler boy, get your little hobbit ass over here!" did Kurt look up from the circle.

His breath caught unceremoniously in his throat.

Blaine was propped up against the far wall, his hands hidden inside the pockets of a pair of _sinfully tight_ black skinny jeans. The toned muscle of his chest pulled ever so slightly at the thin fabric of a plain, white tank top, and the soft, worn cotton bunched at the bottom in a way that showed a sliver of skin around his middle, peeking out just above the waistband of his jeans. It was only then that Kurt realized those were his _own _clothes and that Blaine was wearing them, and simply that reason was enough to send his mind flurrying.

Kurt's eyes trailed up the boy's body to rest on the area of his face, his jaw dropping open as he took in the messy-on-purpose bundle of curls that twirled care-freely around Blaine's forehead, the dark color contrasting gloriously with his skin tone. Kurt's gaze connected with Blaine's and sweet shock coursed through him as he took in Blaine's sultry, 'come-hither' expression. Somewhere in the distance, Kurt felt David clap him on the shoulder and emit a low whistle, but it didn't quite register fully, for the blood in Kurt's body seemed to immediately run south, and all he could think about was—

"Damn Blaine, you're looking _fine_." Mercedes called jovially, snapping Kurt from his thoughts but not completely pulling him from his haze. Blaine laughed and came to join the rest of the group, squeezing in opposite of Kurt and shooting him a look from behind his long, black eyelashes. Kurt swallowed hard and folded his hands surreptitiously in his lap.

"Uh…my turn." Kurt squeaked, leaning forward carefully to twist the neck of the bottle. He sat back on his haunches and waited for it to stop spinning. The rest of the group seemed to have something planned though, because as the bottle slowed to a stop to rest on Sam's spot, they had already shoved Blaine over and traded places with him. It was probably against the rules of the game, but at this point Kurt couldn't care less.

He shot forward on his hands and knees, meeting his boyfriend in a heated kiss. He could smell the scent of pure _Blaine_ wafting from his recently washed hair and he couldn't resist reaching one hand up to tangle in his freed locks, pulling him in deeper as tongues got somehow became involved. Blaine reached up and pulled at Kurt's collar, breathing heavily through his nose, and wrapped his other hand around the back of Kurt's neck, scraping gently with his fingernails. Kurt gasped at the feeling and, before he could stop it, released a low, needy moan from the back of his throat.

Just then, he noticed the complete silence around him and pulled back abruptly.

The expressions around him were a mixed bag. Puck, Santana, Brittany, and Tina all looked like they had been enjoying the show. Mercedes and Rachel were both holding in drunken giggles. Finn seemed a little uncomfortable but just mostly surprised. The rest of the group's eyebrows were up to their hairlines.

"Um, Kurt…wow." Wes said, eyes wide.

Puck grinned ruefully and leaned over to punch Blaine's shoulder, calling out "Get some" in the startled boy's ear.

Kurt sat still, ten different things going through his mind as he considered what to do next. Despite the fact that the glee kids had heard him get…vocal with Blaine, Kurt was still pathetically turned on, and he couldn't prevent his eyes from flickering back to his boyfriend. His gaze raked hungrily over his ensemble, his hair, his darkened eyes, and Kurt let out a soundless, shuddering breath. Suddenly, though, something clicked in place in his head and his hands flew up to grasp at his own stomach.

"Ugh…don't feel well…" Kurt groaned, screwing his face into a sickened grimace. He stood abruptly and ran out of the room and towards the basement, doubling over and covering his mouth as if he needed to throw up.

"Kurt? Kurt, hold on!" Blaine called behind him, panic twisting into his voice. Kurt smiled devilishly behind his hand as he ran down the stairs and into his room, stopping only until he had reached the bathroom door. He could hear Blaine's fast footsteps coming from behind him and he turned to see his boyfriend skid to a halt, fright and worry on his face.

"Kurt what's wrong, I thought you didn't have any beer, are you feeling—?" But Blaine's incessant worrying was cut off as Kurt's hand flew up to cover his lips. Kurt eyed him predatorily, moving his fingers down to grasp the neckline of the tank top. Blaine's mouth hung open slightly as Kurt pulled him into the bathroom and shut the door with conviction.

**A/N: Well, I can't really say I ended it on a cliff-hanger because you all know what going to happen next, haha. Anyway, I stopped here because this chapter was getting really long and these boys just need to get some things out of the way before they focus their full attention on Rachel. The next chapter is going to continue during the party and Kurt and Blaine are going to get into some serious scheming. **

**Hope you like it! By the way, I'm thinking of making my chapters a bit longer so I might not be updating every couple of days like I had been with the first three chapters. I can't say that for certain, though, because these things sort of have a tendency to write themselves. Anyway, please review! **


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Soo, in order to keep this rated T, I had to skip the steaminess in the bathroom (gah! don't hate me!). This chapter actually starts in Wes's point of view, and then eventually switches back to Kurt's. **

**I really don't want to spoil it for you, but for those who don't like violence, be warned; you might want to skip the end of this chapter. **

Wes's POV

After Kurt left to go puke, the whole spin the bottle thing sort of broke apart. Everyone returned to their previous seating arrangements and started up their conversations, laughing occasionally at a joke or singing a few verses of a song. Wes stayed glued to David's side throughout the party, leaving only to retrieve another soda—he refused to let himself sink down to Puckerman's level of drunkenness. He listened to the chatter amongst the teens, hearing snippets of conversation here and there about Nationals and McKinley and Vocal Adrenaline. But the tall kid—he learned his name was Finn—didn't seem to be talking to anyone at all. Wes looked back at David, who seemed to be wrapped up in a conversation with the boy named Mike, and sighed to himself. His conscience had already begun to nag him, and he crossed over to the other side of the room to see if there was a problem.

"Hey, uh, it's Finn right?" Wes ventured, holding his hand out cautiously to the sulking teen. Finn looked up at him and blinked, returning the handshake after a moment of hesitation.

"Yeah. I think I know you; you're Wes? Kurt always said you were the one with the gavel."

Wes chuckled. "Yup, that's me." Despite the boy's shyness, he fell into the conversation easily, sitting down across from Finn. "So, I heard you're his step-brother. Does he talk about Dalton still or has he already forgotten about us?" Wes asked jokingly.

"Nah, he hasn't forgotten you guys. He still talks about the Warblers all the time. Sometimes he compares New Directions to you guys; it's pretty cool."

"Ha ha, does he? Well I'm glad to hear that he still thinks about us in Westerville. The group misses him; he was the first counter-tenor we've had in a really long time."

Finn's eyebrows pulled together in confusion at the word 'counter-tenor', but Wes decided to move on.

"So, is everything okay? I saw that you weren't really talking to anybody and I figured something might be wrong."

"Oh, yeah…I just have a lot on my mind, is all."

"I can imagine. With Nationals and school and everything, things must get pretty tough."

"Yeah, I guess…" Finn trailed off, looking in another direction. Wes followed his gaze to rest on Rachel Berry, the lead singer of New Directions. He'd known who she was ever since the two groups had competed at Regionals; her voice was incredible.

"Rachel, huh?" Wes asked as everything started to fit into place in his thoughts. Finn was having girl trouble; how cliché.

"Sort of…" Finn answered, propping his elbow on his knee and resting his chin on his fist. "She's been giving me these looks all night, and I'm starting to feel kinda guilty."

"Why?"

"It's a long story." Finn said, sighing as he continued. "In a nutshell, she and I used to go out but then we broke up because she cheated on me. But I can't really hold that against her because I cheated with Quinn on her old boyfriend, so now Rachel and I are pretty even for the count."

Wes raised one eyebrow questioningly, but didn't reply because Finn was already opening his mouth to say more.

"So, now I don't really know what to do because I know that I like her and I still care about her, but at the same time I don't know if it would be right to start dating again."

Wes considered this carefully, watching as Rachel laughed boisterously from across the room. "Well, you could always give it a test run. You know, ask her on one date and if it doesn't turn out the way you'd hoped, you can cut things off before they get too involved."

Finn nodded thoughtfully and rotated the cup of Sprite idly in his free hand. "Yeah…yeah I could do that. That way, I can be sure about everything. Thanks for the advice, man." Finn said, turning back to Wes and giving him a grateful smile.

"No problem. I've had my fair share of girl issues." Wes replied. He was about to start a new topic when the group around them suddenly quieted.

"Shh! Shut up shut up!" Puck hissed behind them, and the last bits of conversation died down. Wes didn't know what everyone was trying to listen for at first, but after concentrating for a moment, the small sounds finally registered.

"Augh! _Blaaaiine!_"

The cries reverberated through the silent house, and Wes saw Finn's jaw drop from the corner of his eye. There were a few muffled bangs from down below and then the whole house was void of sound. Even Puckerman, the most vulgar of all the glee kids, was at a loss for words.

A few minutes passed where nobody said anything. Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, the group heard a pair of stumbling footsteps make their way up the basement stairs. A few seconds later, Kurt and Blaine turned the corner into the living room, Blaine's arm wrapped languidly around Kurt's shoulders, a relaxed aura floating around the two like a bubble.

Wes heard Puck clear his throat first, the sound followed by a few other deliberate coughs.

"So, Kurt. Feeling better?" Puck asked casually, though he was clenching his teeth together to stop from collapsing into drunken hysterics.

"Yep. I think I was feeling a little queasy beforehand. Everything's okay now, though." Kurt replied. His voice was noticeably calmer.

"I bet it is…" Lauren snickered, biting down on the edge of her cup to restrain herself.

Wes saw Kurt swallow nervously from where he was standing. A hint of red crept onto the poor boy's cheeks as he surveyed the party guests.

"Er—who's up for some karaoke?" Blaine asked, his face apprehensive. Nobody answered, so Blaine took it upon himself to walk over to the television cabinet and pull out the microphones. Kurt was left standing on his own, receiving the brunt of knowing stares from the rest of the group.

"Okay…who's first?"

"Kurt should go first. He got such a loud, powerful voice." David piped in between a manic grin.

"Yeah, come on Kurt. Maybe this time you can try out some _screamo_; I have a feeling you'd be good at it."

"I second that."

"Oh god…" Kurt groaned, burying his face in his palms. The room finally erupted into uncontrollable laughter, breaking the tension from before like a rock through a window.

Wes chuckled to himself, knowing that no matter what happened nobody was _ever_ going to let Kurt or Blaine live this down.

* * *

><p>Kurt's POV<p>

Kurt felt his pocket vibrate during his history class and he pulled his phone out carefully below the desk, glancing up to make sure nobody had noticed. The screen was lit up with a picture of an envelope reading 'Blaine', and Kurt smiled to himself, dragging the pad of his thumb over the touch screen to open the message.

_Hey there, my little baby penguin :) Just wanted to say the party was awesome, and I 3 you. _

Kurt flipped open the keyboard and moved the phone into the center of his lap.

_**Yeah, it was great. Except for the fact that I screamed out your name in front of all our friends. **_

_Oh well, it was worth it. _

_**Was it, now? You do realize that they will never let you forget it, right?**_

_And why would I want to forget it?_

Kurt blushed fiercely and made a move to cover one of his cheeks with his hand, hoping that nobody had seen the rush of color.

_**You have a valid point.**_

_Haha, yup. Oh and did you hear that Finn is going on a date with Rachel this Saturday? _

_**What? Really? But we didn't even do anything at the party. I figured since Finn was being a wet blanket and Rachel was too drunk to register anything that there wouldn't be any point. **_

_Well, apparently Wes had a chat with him and Finn decided he would give it another shot. So it looks like our job was done for us. _

_**Hold on a minute. That doesn't mean our plan is over. **_

_What do you mean?_

_**Don't you see? It's up to us to make sure their date runs as smoothly as possible. Do you know where they're going?**_

_Breadsticks, I think. _

Kurt let out a disgusted sigh, peeking up to make sure he hadn't been heard.

_**Typical. Well nevertheless, we have to be a part of this. I'll talk to Finn about it and give him some pointers and you can do the same with Rachel. **_

_But but but…why do I have to get Rachel? :(_

_**Um, you're the one who practically ate her face, the last time I checked. **_

_I was drunk._

_**Not my problem. Anyway, we'll talk about it later. I think my teacher's about to ask me something. **_

_Ok, bye. See you tonight. _

Kurt slipped his phone back into his pocket just as his named was called.

"Yes, Ms. Freidman?"

"Mr. Hummel, I really hope that was only your _phone_ you were fiddling with in your lap just now."

Kurt's face burst into flames as he tried to fight the tsunami of embarrassment rising around him. His classmates snickered and the sound meshed together to form one cruel, monotonous buzz.

"Y-yes, it was my phone…" Kurt replied meekly, wanting desperately to run from the room and hide in the janitor's closet down the hall. Whispers cut through the air like hot knives.

"Please pay attention next time and keep the electronics away."

Kurt mouthed 'sorry' to his teacher and spent the rest of his class slumped down in his seat, his eyes glued to the blank sheet of paper in front of him.

The rest of his morning passed uneventfully; he only received a few shoves in the hallway which—compared to the average school day—left him hopeful for the afternoon. At lunch, Kurt selected his daily salad in slightly higher spirits, smiling for the first time in a while as he sat down with his friends.

"Kurt, you seem happy today. Did something happen?" Tina asked, looking somewhere other than at Mike for a change. Kurt shrugged lightly, skewering a few lettuce leaves with his fork.

"Actually, that's the thing; _nothing_ happened. I've only gotten hit a few times today so far and no one's said anything offensive to me yet." Kurt said, grinning slightly as he chewed. Despite his cheerful attitude, the faces around him seemed to drop, pity and concern replacing former emotions.

"Kurt that's…that's still not that great." Finn said uneasily, picking at his plate of cafeteria pizza.

"Yeah, I agree…" Quinn murmured, her eyes flickering anxiously back to her own tray. "Kurt, you shouldn't feel like what you go through on a daily basis is normal. It isn't …and it shouldn't be something you tolerate or expect."

Kurt frowned minutely, glancing around at his classmates as the beginnings of a knot began to form in his stomach.

"Y-yea, I suppose you're right." He said quietly. Sam reached over and patted him on his shoulder signaling the end of the topic. A few moments later, the normal chatter spurred up again, leaving Kurt sitting silently on his own.

He smiled ruefully as he listened to their excited voices, realizing that yes, his friends were supportive when they wanted to be, but they were only his friends; they couldn't see the true pain and conflict beneath his exterior any more than he could see theirs. The separation was what defined true emotional isolation, and he was both grateful and frustrated by it.

Kurt's train of thought faltered suddenly, his arm ceasing its movement midway through shoveling in a bite. He became aware of the ominous prickling on the back of his neck and he watched nervously as the hairs stood up on his arms around developing goose bumps. He was being watched.

Slowly, Kurt turned his head to sweep his gaze over the crowd of students surrounding him. None of them paid any him particular attention, only a few glancing up to narrow their eyes, and Kurt thought he'd only imagined it. He gave the room one last cursory scan, hoping to find nothing out of the ordinary, his mind already conjuring an excuse for his paranoia.

But somehow, his body processed the shock before his brain and he felt an electrifying jolt as his eyes connected with those of someone across the room. Kyle, his notorious tormentor, glowered threateningly from across the seas of lunch tables, his fists clenched tightly in a fearful warning.

Kurt swallowed against the lump of terror in his throat, looking away pointedly before turning his head back to his own table. He shuddered involuntarily as the waves of panic subsided and forced himself to tune back into the animated conversations. Kurt would not allow himself to be frightened into a corner; he was too proud for that. He just needed to avoid Kyle and his goons at all costs and he would be fine.

But, how long could he keep it up before something went wrong?

….

The sun beat relentlessly onto the concrete of the sidewalk outside, reflecting the heat back into the air in cumbersome, trickling waves. Students took refuge inside the school or left quickly for home in their cars, leaving the back parking lot deserted, the black expanse of pavement glistening like the floor of desert in the middle of a July summer.

New Directions had stayed late after school, cramming in as much practice time as humanly possible since Nationals was on its way. After and hour and a half, Mr. Schuester decided to call it quits, seeing as the kids' energy and enthusiasm was beginning to wane—apart from Rachel's, of course. With one last goodbye and a reminder to keep practicing bars at home, he left for the staff parking lot in the front of the school, leaving the glee kids to meander down the hallway in the opposite direction towards their cars.

"Hey, Finn." Kurt called, hurrying to his step-brother's side. "Do you mind getting a ride with Puck today? I have to check something out in the library and I want to get there before they janitors lock it up. I might be a few minutes."

Finn gave a nonchalant shrug. "Sure. That's cool. I'll just leave the car for you then."

Kurt nodded in thanks and split off in the other direction away from the rest of the group, up to the library where he saw that, luckily, the doors were still propped open. He checked out a book of jazz sheet music, pausing to flip through from cover to cover and check for his favorite songs, before thanking the remaining staff and leaving. Only ten minutes had passed; he wouldn't get home much later than Finn.

He headed down the empty corridors, vaguely noticing the peculiarity of not being stared at or slushied or shoved, before approaching the door leading outside. Kurt could feel the heat pulsing through the cracks between the hinges and he grimaced, knowing that he would probably be sweating in his new tweed vest by the time he reached his car. Sighing with reluctance, he shoved open the door, wincing at the sudden, uncomfortable change in temperature.

Kurt took a few steps out into the sun, squinting at the brightness, before hearing the door burst open again behind him. A stab of fear shot through to his chest, but he refused to turn around, not willing to appear frightened or apprehensive. He continued walking, even when he heard the grizzly sounding chuckles slice through the air, tripping warning signals in Kurt's head. Panic echoed in his thoughts and stopped the movement in his limbs.

_Run. Get away. Go, now. _

He should have listened to his instincts, but the small fractured part of his sensibility, his tiny sliver of courage and audacity, grounded him to the spot on the sidewalk.

"Hey, faggot."

Even though he knew it was coming, Kurt flinched at the cold, sharp tone, taking a deep breath and pivoting around on his heel to face his oppressors behind him. Kyle stood five feet away, three of his burliest teammates focused around him like orbiting planets around one main, scorching star.

"Kyle."

"I heard you were playing with yourself in class today. What kind of filthy little sicko are you, faggot? We don't tolerate that crap here." Kyle sneered. The hulking teen took one step forward. His friends followed in synchronization.

"I wasn't. I was texting on my phone." Kurt hissed through his teeth. He could feel the beads of sweat forming near his hairline from the rising temperature and he resisted the urge to wipe it away.

"Yeah? Who were you texting? Your boyfriend?"

"As a matter of fact, I was." Kurt narrowed his eyes daringly, and before he could control his impulse, he blurted out, "why, is that a problem?"

"You're damn right, it's a problem." Kyle growled menacingly, squaring his shoulders. The hockey captain clenched his hands into tight fists, the skin straining white against his knuckles. "This school doesn't need any more homos like you. Hell, they're probably breeding you little queers inside that stupid glee club. We've already got enough as it is."

Kurt felt the pit of anger boil in his stomach and he narrowed his eyes. "Oh really? Is that what you're scared of? You think I'm going to start walking around the halls and infecting people until they turn gay? You think I'm some sort of disease?" He scoffed and rolled his eyes. "I've heard that same crap spouted from plenty of other people before you. Do you seriously think threatening me is going to change who I am, or are you just that stupid?"

"_Watch it, _fag!" Kyle snapped, lunging forward and closing the space between them until he was nearly six inches from Kurt's defiant face.

But Kurt was already in too deep; nothing could stop him from what was to come next.

"_Make me, dumbass! _You're just scared! Scared of people who are different! You can't face the fact that you're nothing special, that you won't amount to_ anything_ once you get out of this wretched place, but you're too much of a simpleton to understand that no matter what you say or do to me, _nothing will change! _So give the little 'tough guy' act a break and try to get some perspective through that thick skull. You're _weak_, Kyle, _weak—_!"

Kyle lashed out with his fist, catching Kurt across the jaw with a terrible amount of force. The smaller boy stumbled backwards, stunned from the impact, but before Kurt had any time to react, Kyle was on him again.

_Umph! _

Kurt doubled over as Kyle's fist hit deep into his diaphragm, coughing and sputtering from the pain shooting and pulsing in his skull. He tried to focus through the whiteness covering his vision, but he was struck again and his thoughts scattered. The next few hits came in quick succession. One blow connected with his right temple, the other with his ribs, and Kurt couldn't help but scream as sheer, unbridled agony splintered through his torso and up to the tortured nerve receptors in his brain.

"Who's weak now, you dirty little queer?" Kyle hissed, sending another swing into Kurt's ear.

A high pitched ringing shot through Kurt's head and blocked out all sound for a second or two. Kurt spun around dazedly and began to run, but his feet were heavy and his body was unbalanced and swaying. He hadn't get very far when he felt two pairs of hands come down hard on his shoulders and pull him roughly backwards. Kyle's friends had decided to join the fun. Instinctually, Kurt flung his fist in the direction of the perpetrators, feeling his knuckles connect hard with something but too panicked to process what he'd hit. Only when he heard the growled swear of one of the other boys did he realized he'd managed to get at least one good punch in.

Victory surged through him along with fear, but the feeling didn't last very long as he felt another blow pummel into his chest.

"Hold him." One of the boys instructed, rage leaking into his command. Two sets of broad fingers clamped down on Kurt's upper arms like iron fetters. Kurt struggled to get free, but his efforts were futile and pitiful and his strength was beginning to ebb away with the rest of his adrenaline and courage. The large boys turned Kurt forcefully until he was looking into Kyle's reddened, sweating face. He saw the fourth boy standing a little ways over, rubbing angrily at his eye.

But he barely had time enough to focus before Kyle's knee connected with his groin.

Never before had Kurt felt something so excruciating. He couldn't even hear himself screaming, couldn't feel the continuous series of kicks and punches hitting him from all sides, couldn't taste the metallic tinge of blood on his lips. Black spots flitted across his sight and congealed on the edges in tunnel like rings, blurring the rest of the world from him but not entirely pulling him into darkness.

The pain dulled enough finally for Kurt to feel other things, like the rubber of Kyle's shoe as it struck at his shin, or the bony elbow of the boys behind him as they pummeled his shoulder blades, or even the faint trickling of blood running down over his chin and dripping onto his shirt collar.

At some point in all of this, Kurt's mind began to separate from the rest of his body. It was a strange sensation, like his consciousness was floating somewhere above the group of boys, like the punches weren't really hitting _him_, but rather some separate representation of himself.

He couldn't remember when Kyle and his friends decided to leave. He couldn't recall when he'd dragged himself into the shade near the wall and slumped down onto the sidewalk. He barely registered reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone, thumb trembling over the speed dials before selecting the one person he had on his mind since that morning in history class.

The little picture of Blaine flickered onto his screen, and Kurt turned on the speaker before letting the device slip from his fingers and clatter onto the concrete. Only two rings passed before there was a resounding click, and Blaine's voice was pouring out of the phone like a lifeline.

"_Hey babe, how's it going? I'm about five minutes away from your house, do you need something?"_

Kurt swallowed with relief, but the action made his throat convulse in pain, for it was still raw and parched from screaming.

"Bl-laine…I…help me…" Kurt croaked. His skin was cooking in the heat and the back of his hand burned from where it was resting, limp against the ground.

"_Kurt? Kurt is something wrong?"_ Blaine's voice asked urgently.

"I'm…at McKinley…god Blaine, everything h-hurts s-so much…please…"

"_What? K-Kurt what happened? Kurt, answer me!"_

Kurt tried to open his mouth and reply, but the black rings around his vision rippled and expanded until he could see nothing at all. He was standing on one side of a dark wall. He could hear Blaine's panicked voice, but he couldn't respond. He was trapped.

"_KURT! I'm coming right now, don't go anywhere! Don't move! Stay with me okay? Please, god, keep talking to me! Kurt I want to hear your voice! Kurt? Kurt!"_

But all sound began to seep away into the blackness, and he drifted off into nothing.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Hey guys! So I hope you're not too mad at me for the last chapter. Poor Kurt, I feel like I'm torturing him to no end with Kyle…who doesn't have a last name. I was actually thinking about that the other day; I can't think of a good last name for Kyle, but I'm just horrible at making up names and titles **_**anyway**_**, so yeah… but hey, if anyone has any suggestions, please tell me because I'm stuck. **

**This chapter starts with Kurt dreaming—so in case anybody is wondering why it's all in italics and it randomly switched into present tense, that's why. **

_Waves are washing lightly onto a pristine shore. The breeze tousles the fronds of a nearby palm. _

_Kurt sits with his feet buried in the white sand. He is propped up on his elbows, enjoying the turquoise ocean in front of him and a faint smile lifts his lips from their previous frown. He doesn't know how he came to be there; he doesn't know where he was before this. He doesn't care. _

_Kurt breathes in deeply, appreciating the salty tang in the air. The sky is home to only a few cotton white clouds and the sun shines and glistens across the water._

_A voice calls his name from behind, and he turns to see who it is. Suddenly, Kurt is no longer looking upon a beach paradise; the dunes that used to lay there before him have warped into an immense, brick wall that stretches far past the edges of his sight. He is confused and disappointed. The setting before had been much prettier. He wants it back again. _

_Kurt pouts and beats his palm childishly against the ground. He is surprised to feel that the white sand is no longer there under his fingertips; rather, it has been replaced with hard, beige concrete that is too hot against his skin. The ocean is still there, but it too has changed. The former blue-green color has darkened into an ugly brown. It leaves an unsettling red residue against the concrete each time a wave recedes, and Kurt scoots away from the water before it reaches his toes. _

_His heart starts to beat faster in his chest and he suddenly wishes he could go home. The friendly sky from a few moments prior is not so friendly anymore; the sun beats down too brightly and the sky is too empty and large. The air is heavy with heat and Kurt can feel the sweat matting his shirt to his back. He looks around for shade, but there is none. _

_Kurt hears the voice again and his heads whips around towards the source. His gaze immediately connects with two eyes of green-hazel and a rush of relief spreads from his hairline to his ankles as he realizes that he is looking into the angelic face of his boyfriend. _

_Blaine is only a few feet away and he reaches a hand out to touch Kurt's flushed cheeks. He looks worried. _

'_I'm so glad you're here.' Kurt tries to say, but the sound catches in his throat and he notices with a jolt as fire flares in his chest. _

_Blaine frowns with concern, and suddenly there is pain everywhere. The background changes again and the two boys are surrounded by crackling flames. Kurt gasps and shies away from the yellow tendrils as they lick at his skin and leave burning trails along his arms. The circle closes in on them and Kurt's limbs cease to function correctly. Every movement seems slower, and he can't get up to run away. He panics and yanks his stare back to his boyfriend, but Blaine is gone, nowhere to be seen. He is alone and the fire is convulsing around him and swallowing him whole and he can't stop screaming because there is too much pain and too much heat and too much fear. _

_Kurt closes his eyes and continues to shriek, but the crackling sound decreases in volume. He can't believe it but he doesn't take the chance to peek; he simply listens to the noise being sucked away into a vacuum of blackness. _

_And then something clicks back on in his brain and he can feel again, he can hear and he can smell and taste, but he just doesn't want to open his eyes, that is, until he hears a faint sobbing fill the air around him. _

* * *

><p>Blaine POV<p>

Blaine heard no reply from his boyfriend and he screamed into the receiver again. His palms were slick and sliding against the steering wheel and he knew he should pull over and sort out his thoughts before continuing to drive, but he couldn't process rational thought.

_God, Blaine…everything h-hurts s-so much…_

Kurt was in trouble. He was in pain. He needed help. He wasn't answering anymore.

Blaine gripped the wheel so tightly, his knuckles ached. His foot pressed down all the way on the gas pedal until it clunked against the floor, but the loud, shrill screech of the tires shocked him enough to pull back and return to normal speed before he flipped the car. His breathing came in short, shaky hisses through his clenched teeth and he growled in desperation as he imagined Kurt at McKinley, hurt and broken, lying somewhere alone…

Two minutes since the phone call.

He took a U-turn at the nearest light and sped off in the direction of the high school, his eyes blurring dangerously with frightened tears. White noise was still emanating from the speakers of his phone; he hadn't hung up yet, and his ears strained at the soft, airy sound, listening for any sign of Kurt speaking or breathing or _something. _The silence was deafening and terrifying.

Blaine's heart thumped unevenly in his chest as the edge of the building came into view. Sure, Kurt had said he was at McKinley, but _where_ in McKinley? How would Blaine find him?

He pulled through the front entrance where the buses would normally enter and jerked the car to a halt. As soon as the engine died, he shoved open the door, tripping clumsily on his way out and catching himself on the heels of his hands before stumbling into a run towards the main doors. A few students still hanging out on a nearby bench saw him and stared openly, but he ignored their disgusted eyes and judgmental faces. He was too panicked to realize that he'd never been in Kurt's school before, that he had no clue where he was going as he sprinted through the complex maze of hallways, and that he was slowly beginning to lose himself in the unfamiliar surroundings.

Where was he? He was positive he'd passed that same classroom a minute ago. And that water fountain; hadn't he seen that before?

Blaine stopped dead and allowed himself to take a full breath for the first time in minutes. He ran a hand helplessly through his stiffened locks and suddenly felt very warm in his suit jacket. The collar of his dress shirt was beginning to choke him and he pulled at it roughly, shedding his jacket and tie and draping them over his arm. That helped. He felt looser and freer and he could think.

He looked around him, finally noticing small details about the objects in the hallway. A small glare of reflected light caught his eye and he turned to see a glass display case full of framed class pictures. Underneath those pictures were a few white sheets of printer paper with what looked to be a map printed on them, and Blaine strode over hurriedly to press his face against the glass. It was indeed a map of the school, and Blaine froze in place as he analyzed it closely, straining to see the small printed classroom numbers. He sought out the chorus room and found it to be in an adjacent hallway from the one he was in currently.

He knew Kurt's last period was glee club, and he clung to the hope that maybe he was still there; maybe he had slipped during some choreography, or fell off of a chair. Maybe it wasn't as bad as it seemed.

As Blaine came upon the door to the chorus room, his heart sunk in despair as he saw that it was dark inside and locked. He let out a dry, strangled sob and paced back and forth in the hallway, wracking his brain for another place Kurt might be. He knew he was doomed if Kurt was in a bathroom somewhere; he wouldn't be able to find him. Blaine quickly threw away that train of thought because it was making him hopeless and resolute, and he couldn't afford to give up.

If the room was dark, that meant the glee instructor, Mr. Schuester, had gone home for the day. If he had gone home for the day that meant the glee kids had as well. Most of the kids were upperclassmen, which meant they would most likely have cars. Kurt had a car. Kurt had probably started to go home. Did Kurt get in an accident in the parking lot? It was a possibility.

Blaine's thoughts sped up and he headed back down the hallway to the map again, his eyes darting over the black ink as he searched for the nearest exit. A large square labeled 'student lot' stared back at him through the glass and the exit nearest to it was marked by a small 'x'. Blaine raced off towards the area of the 'x' and felt a surge of energy rush through him as he came to the door leading outside. He didn't pause to think before shoving through the barrier and bursting out into the stifling heat, straining his eyes against the bright light and grimacing at the throbbing in his forehead as his vision adjusted.

Blaine's heart nearly stopped.

He'd found him. He'd found his boyfriend. Kurt was slumped against the wall under a patch of shade from the roof above, his cell phone resting on the ground next to his thigh. Blaine exhaled sharply as relief exploded through him and he unlocked his frozen limbs, rushing over to the boy's side.

The relief quickly turned to raw, naked horror.

Kurt's entire face was swollen and covered in blotches of red and purple. A thin trail of blood trickled out of his mouth, down his chin and along the curve of his battered jaw, stopping where his collar hugged the side of his neck and soaking deep into the fibers of his shirt. His perfectly coiffed hair was sticking out in all directions and his clothes were wrinkled and twisted on his body.

Blaine felt silent tears slide down his cheeks and he bent down to the ground, unsure of whether or not he should touch Kurt in case there were other injuries; he very much doubted that the damaged stopped at his face. Slowly, Blaine reached out and pressed the end key on Kurt's phone, hearing the click as the call disconnected and left him in complete silence.

He could hear Kurt's shallow breathing. He could hear the quiet wheezing in his chest and the gurgling of blood as it slid past each intake of air.

Before he knew it, Blaine was clutching as his own chest and crying, crying harder than he ever had before. He was terrified. He was so…so incredibly, undeniably scared.

Blaine's sobs quieted as he heard Kurt's breathing change in tempo; he was coming to. Blaine watched with bated breath as Kurt's eyelashes flickered and brushed against the puffy sockets; his body twitched and he let out a whimper as his senses flooded back to him, his face contorting in immense pain. Another sorrowful noise pushed past Blaine's lips and he leaned forward on his knees, placing his palms _very_ lightly over his boyfriend's cheeks.

"K-Kurt? Baby? D-do you hear me?" Blaine choked out, the muscles in his arms trembling.

"B…Blaine…" Kurt groaned. He opened his eyes and squinted against the light.

"Oh…oh my god…Kurt…Kurt…" Blaine tried not to babble, tried to stay calm for Kurt's sake, but he could feel himself falling to pieces all over the ground around him.

Kurt looked at him like he was an angel sent from heaven itself, and Blaine felt a rush of guilt as he realized he didn't deserve it; he hadn't been able to protect the boy he loved. He'd let this happen to Kurt. He should have pushed harder to keep him safe. It was his fault.

Before Blaine could say anything more, he was reaching for Kurt's phone and dialing the emergency room. He never looked away from the broken boy across from him even when the responder came on the other line, rattling off the address of the school and their location and nodding in response to the woman's command not to move Kurt. Blaine ended the call and dropped the phone, leaning in to press feather light kisses over Kurt's bruised jaw, all the while praying that the ambulance would get there faster.

A few minutes passed before Blaine could hear the roaring sirens from down the road. The paramedics pulled into the back lot and parked horizontally across empty parking spaces, bursting out of the back doors with a stretcher and IV tubes. Blaine reluctantly stood off to the side as they strapped Kurt onto the padded board and loaded him inside the vehicle, only looking up when a nearby medic asked him if he would like to ride along with them on the way to the hospital. Blaine agreed numbly and climbed in with the rest of the staff, sitting on one of the side benches and feeling extremely out of place.

One of the paramedics started probing around Kurt's middle, searching for additional injuries. Blaine nearly broke down again when Kurt let out a loud scream of agony and writhed in his bindings. The phrase 'several broken ribs' was thrown around between the bustling medics, as well as 'possible internal bleeding' and 'full body bruising'. Blaine could almost hear the world tumbling and crashing down around him and he clung to the wall as if it were a life vest.

Eventually, the ambulance pulled into the back entrance of the hospital and suddenly everybody was moving. Kurt was removed quickly and the rest of the staff followed. One of them gestured hurriedly to Blaine to get out, and Blaine struggled to keep up with them as they pushed Kurt through the double doors leading inside, the hallways smelling strongly of antiseptic and lit with long iridescent bulbs.

Blaine swallowed back the lump in his throat as reality finally hit him. Kurt was going to be okay.

* * *

><p>Kurt's POV<p>

The first day in the hospital was hazy and full of pain. Kurt didn't remember most of what went on around him, even when he was taken into surgery to stop the bleeding from the outer lining of his right lung; one of his broken ribs had scratched the delicate flesh, but thankfully, had not done too much damage.

It was the next evening that Kurt finally began to process the events taking place. The doctors were beginning to wean him off of the morphine so they could give him a weaker medication, and Kurt began to become accustomed to the constant ache that pulsed through his body with each heartbeat. Blaine was asleep in a chair next to Kurt's bed, as he had been for the past few hours.

Kurt shifted in his position on the clean, sky blue sheets, grimacing as fire seared through his veins.

"Blaine…?" Kurt whispered, reaching over to brush the tips of his fingers over the boy's relaxed brow. Blaine stirred in his sleep and drowsily opened his eyes. Kurt watched as realization washed over his boyfriend, and Blaine's eyes shot open.

"Kurt? Kurt, are you okay?" Blaine blurted out, hoisting himself up out of the chair. He looked over Kurt for a moment before tilting his head to the side. "You…you're yourself again, aren't you?" He sighed heavily and ran his hand through his hair. "Thank god… I was so scared."

"What do you mean?" Kurt asked confusedly, worry tainting his inflection. Blaine came closer and sat on the edge of Kurt's bed, bending down to kiss his forehead.

"The medication they had you on yesterday…it messed you up a bit. You couldn't communicate—well, you could, but not really. You didn't really register a lot. Kurt, I was so scared; I didn't know what to do. There was one point where you looked over at me and…and you saw me but…you looked at me like I was a stranger." Blaine shuddered and pressed another kiss onto Kurt's hairline as if he were trying to make up for lost time.

"I…I did?" Kurt squeaked. He met Blaine's gaze ashamedly, silent apologies swimming in his eyes.

"Yes, but, now you're okay and I'm so, _so_ relieved." Blaine laughed once with exhilaration. "The swelling has gone down on your face. You look almost back to normal."

Kurt's eyes bugged out and he had to restrain himself before his hands flung up to his head on their own accord. He probably looked like a complete _mess_. Blaine could see the thoughts racing through his eyes and his hands fluttered to his boyfriend's shoulders.

"Hey, hey…you don't need to worry about how you look. You're beautiful. Always."

Kurt rolled his eyes but calmed down, taking in his surroundings for the first time. Everything was a mixture of white and light blue and beige. The bed he was lying on was centered in the middle with a few uncomfortable looking plastic chairs placed in the corners and along the walls.

"Cheery place, huh?" Kurt scoffed, the corner of his lipspulling into a half smile. He looked back at Blaine and was surprised to see that the boy wasn't laughing; Blaine was staring at him with an emotion so intense, it took Kurt's breath away. He raised his eyebrows in question, and Blaine shook his head, leaning down to touch Kurt's lips with his own. He kept it short, unwilling to risk the chance of Kurt being in pain, and pulled back an inch, keeping their faces still close enough to feel each other's breaths on their noses.

"I love you so much." Blaine murmured, his voice heavy and loving. He closed the distance between them again and Kurt couldn't help but reach up and tangle his fingers in Blaine's hair. He breathed into Blaine's mouth and reveled in the feeling as his boyfriend smiled against him.

"Hey, be careful with my boy there."

Blaine pulled back quickly at the sound of Burt's voice, and suddenly the rest of Kurt's family was filing into the small room.

"U-Uh, yes Mr. Hummel. I apologize. Sorry." Blaine stammered and returned to his former position in the chair. Burt gave Blaine an understanding—yet somehow still faintly threatening—smile.

"It's Burt, kid. And don't feel like you have to be too jumpy. If you hadn't found Kurt, who knows what would have happened to him. I owe you Blaine. I really do."

Blaine's previously pale face reddened with gratitude. "Oh, um, thank you Mr— Burt. But really, you don't owe me anything. I should have made sure Kurt was alright in school. I should have talked to him more about it, and I'm really, really sorry that I didn't, because I know I should have, and this is partially my fault, but had I known more about that Kyle kid sooner, I might have been able to stop it, but I didn't and now _this_ happened and—"

Burt held up his hand for silence and Blaine quieted immediately, sinking into a puddle of embarrassment in the chair.

"Listen, Blaine. There was nothing you could have done. Trust me, I know how the system works with these things, with the bullying support situation, and there was nothing that could have stopped that delinquent from doing whatever he damn well pleased. Kurt was…was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Blaine swallowed back his nervousness and nodded before turning back to Kurt and taking the boy's hand in his own. Kurt squeezed gently and nestled his head farther into his pillow, suddenly very tired.

"By the way; how're you doing, son?" Burt asked him, leaning around Blaine to rest his hand on Kurt's shoulder.

"Alright…for my situation, anyway. Everything kind of…hurts a lot, but I'll be okay…" Kurt trailed off and looked away from his father at Blaine, who suddenly had a very stony expression. "What's wrong?"

Blaine snapped back into focus at Kurt's question, replacing the darkness on his face with his normal, loving warmth. "Oh nothing…just worried about you, is all."

But Kurt was not fooled.

"Sure. What were you _really _thinking about, hm?"

Silence enveloped the air as Blaine tried to formulate his reply in the best way possible, especially with Kurt's parents in the room with him.

"Just…I'm just thinking about what I would do if I had the chance to, er, have a little _chat_ with Kyle. Nothing that important."

Kurt raised his eyebrows sardonically, ignoring the smoldering ache that accompanied the movement. "Really? Then I wouldn't be correct if I were to guess that you were imagining killing-slash-mortally wounding the guy? You were just planning a 'chat' with him? That's all?"

Burt stepped in, his features set in fatherly caution. "Don't get involved with this kid, Blaine. He's not worth the trouble, and you could get really hurt too. Believe me, you have no idea how much I want to just get up and shoot him a couple times, but I just can't do that. And you can't either. And even though it _physically _pains me to say it, I'm afraid we're going to have to sit back on this one and let the school and the police handle the punishment."

"But that's bullshi—" Blaine cut himself off before he could finish his protest. Taking a deep breath to calm himself again, he sat back in the chair and looked wearily at Kurt. "Even if the school board does anything, it won't be enough to keep Kyle completely away from Kurt. Even if he gets expelled, there's always the chance of Kurt running into him somewhere around town. At restaurants, or malls, or just walking around somewhere; the only way Kurt would be completely safe is for Kyle to be shoved in a juvenile detention center."

The room was silent for a moment as the truth of Blaine's words sunk in. Burt cleared his throat uneasily and looked down at his son with love and concern. "Well…that's just a risk we're going to have to take."

Kurt disconnected from the conversation as a nauseous fear crept slowly into his stomach. Blaine was right; he would always have to be on his guard no matter what happened. He would always have to be looking over his shoulder. He couldn't go out much anymore. He couldn't do so many things.

He let the fear wear off and morph into a strange sort of benign shock at how restrictive everything had become. He had never truly comprehended the difference bullying had made on his everyday life. Seeing the football players or puck heads in the hallway and turning in the opposite direction was just normal for him; routine bathroom trips to wash out excess red dye from the slushie facials just seemed like an unfortunate, but bromidic part of his schedule. How had he not noticed this before? Had he grown so accustomed to all of this that he didn't notice what kind of effect it had on his happiness?

Blaine and Kurt's family were eventually kicked out by a nurse who claimed Kurt needed more rest, and finally he was left alone to his thoughts. At first, there was nothing Kurt wanted more than a bit of non drug-induced sleep, but his mind kept moving too fast to allow any kind of relaxation. He laid there with his head stuffed in his pillow, wondering about future events and past ones, about Blaine and his family and taekwondo and glee and everything else in his busy, messed up life. There was so, so much to think about and so little time to do it. What would he do when he had to go back to school and face everyone? There was no doubt that the story had been broadcast to at least the entire glee club by now, and he knew from experience those girls loved to gossip. What about all the rest of the jocks? Would they hold some compassion or would they just take Kyle's side and maybe even follow his example?

Somehow though, even with all of the thoughts and fears and memories buzzing around at top speed, Kurt managed to settle into a dream much less intense and frightening than his last. He would figure everything out in the morning when the hospital discharged him. For now, though, his worries could wait.

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><p><strong>AN: Soo, this chapter was a pain to write...kudos to you if you survived through it! Anyway, please keep the reviews coming; they're so encouraging!**

**Next chapter is probably going to be mostly-if not all-in Blaine's POV. And by the way, I still haven't forgotten about Finn and Rachel's date, so that will be included in the future-in this story's timeline, it's two days after Kurt leaves the hospital. Thanks, till next time!**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Okay, first off I would like to give a special thanks to StarShinobi for giving me Kyle's new last name—I just love the name McCaffery, and yes, it does have a nice ring to it! I read the comment and when I saw it I LITERALLY screamed and now my family is giving me weird looks every once in a while…but that's okay! I have a name now so it's all good, haha! **

**Anyway, I love how everyone hates Kyle; I hate him too. I'm writing about him, but I hate him with a passion. Oh and just a heads up, there's some language in this one—nothing too bad but in case anybody wanted to know beforehand…**

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><p>Never before had Blaine been completely off task in his psychology class. Bored? Maybe. Completely, and physically unable to listen to a lecture? Never. He was already four pages behind in the reading and his teacher had called him out twice for daydreaming. Normally he would be more embarrassed, but in the current circumstance, Blaine was too preoccupied to fully register anything other than rage. His face was set in a continuous glower and he gripped the edge of his desk with an excessive amount of force.<p>

Ironically, the lesson for the day centered around the chemical effects of anger on the brain. Had Blaine been more attentive, he might have learned how to control his emotions.

"Psst! Anderson. Hey, Anderson. _Anderson. _Blaine!"

Blaine's head snapped up as he finally heard his name and he glanced around the room before focusing on Wes sitting two seats down from him. Wes gave him an annoyed look, his gaze turning apprehensive as his eyes flickered up to the teacher who was still conducting her lesson.

"What's wrong with you today?" Wes hissed, keeping his gaze on the front board.

Blaine shrugged and started to turn back around but Wes cleared his throat loudly, obviously insulted that Blaine would be so rude. Blaine rolled his eyes dramatically but turned back to see Wes staring daggers at him.

"Nothing's wrong. I'm just not having the best day."

"Well that doesn't mean you have to be impudent about it." Wes complained. "Did something happen today? You've been glaring at your pencil for half an hour."

"No. Everything's fine. I'm just really tired and I'm cranky." Blaine whispered back, careful to keep his face neutral, even though it felt like weights were pulling his mouth and brows downwards. Wes looked at him disapprovingly, but eventually gave up and sighed.

"Okay. Just make sure your attitude had improved by Warblers practice; we can't have our soloist throwing death stares at everyone."

Blaine nodded and turned back around in his seat, allowing his face to settle back into its original grimace. What he told Wes wasn't totally a lie; he _was_ tired and cranky. However, being that it was Friday and the last class of the day, one would expect Blaine to be in higher spirits. Normally, the Warbler was smiling and joking and singing by the end of the week; his energy had a tendency to build up as the week progressed. The real problem surfaced from a late night Facebook post written by a friend of a friend of his friend. Blaine had been up late the night before finishing homework and simultaneously surfing Facebook when he came across a recent conversation between Kurt's thug, Kyle, and another boy from McKinley. He knew he should have ignored the comments and let them slide off his shoulders, but the stresses from recent events had his nerves pulled dangerously taut and he had reached the utter breaking point.

**Kyle Freakin McCaffery: Life sucks shit right now. **

**Anthony Griswold: Dude why?**

**Kyle Freakin McCaffery: Dad's threatening to send me to military school cuz I beat up some homo from my school. **

**Anthony Griswold: Tht sux man. I heard they kill u in those places. What did u even do 2 the kid?**

**Kyle Freakin McCaffery: I didn't even hit him tht much he's just such a pussy that he couldn't take it. And now I'm suspended for like two weeks cuz figgins is such a fag loving asshole. I gotta take after school counseling sessions every day i mean how retarded is tht? **

**Anthony Griswold: Sux. So does that mean you won't make it to the rink to practice or—**

By that point, Blaine had already slammed his laptop shut and started screaming into his pillow, punching his bed frame over and over until the tips of his knuckles were stained red and swollen. How could these people be so heartless? Did they have no conscience whatsoever?

He couldn't sleep for the rest of the night. His brain was working in overdrive, conjuring images of him smashing Kyle's face in, hitting him with his car, throwing him off a building. He thought of anything and everything he could do to quench this thirst for vengeance before it got the best of him, but somehow that thirst only grew larger until he was overflowing with hate, his fists curling up from his need for violence and blood. Blaine had never felt this magnitude of anger before, and had no idea of how to restrain himself. Was it always this consuming? He never remembered it to be, but then again, even with all of the merciless bullying and cruelty thrown his way over the years he had never been an angry child. He had never been one to jump at the thought of a good fight, as others in his previous public school had been. He'd never had to solve a problem between another person with his fists; they had always been the one to hit him, very often with no good reason behind it. So why was the anger eating away at him _now_? Kyle had never even seen him before.

It was because he loved Kurt. He loved him, and he hated anybody else who dared to cause him harm. And if he had to fight for Kurt's safety, he would do it, no matter the cost.

That was why, after a particularly tedious Warblers rehearsal, Blaine found himself marching down to his car outside. He only had one thing in mind—or rather, one person in mind. Kyle. And he wouldn't sleep until he saw him broken and bleeding on the ground.

* * *

><p>Kurt's POV<p>

Kurt rubbed absently at a purple mark on his shoulder, watching as the color whitened when he pressed down on it and flooded back when he pulled his fingers away. He was sitting on his bed, half-listening to another episode of Desperate Housewives, an empty carton of low-fat French Vanilla Haagen-Das lying sideways on his comforter. His pillow was covered in damp droplets, leftover tears from an hour before.

He wasn't sure how much more emotional abuse he could take. When his Dad had returned home with the news of Kyle's suspension—_only _Kyle's suspension—he had nearly broken down into dry heaves right in the middle of his foyer. It made him sick, the thought that his oppressor, the boy who had made him feel pain worse than any before, would still be sharing the same hallways, the same classrooms, the same cafeteria…he wasn't sure he could handle the constant fear anymore. What made his day even worse was that Blaine was not answering his phone. He wasn't even receiving Kurt's multiple texts. Kurt finally gave up trying to contact his boyfriend for support after the fifth phone call and the ninth message, flopping down on his bed and ruining his carb diet with a tub of creamy goodness. To hell with it; he deserved _some _form of comfort.

The three women on the screen were in the middle of some sort of pointless argument for some sort of pointless reason, and Kurt stared longingly at them, wondering what it would be like to live in a world where you could speak your mind when you wanted and call someone a bitch if you pleased. If his world was like a reality television show, his life would be glorious. But his life was his not a show; it was simply plain old, disappointing life, and there was nothing he could do to change it.

* * *

><p>Blaine's POV<p>

Blaine parked haphazardly in one of the farthest parking spaces in the lot, away from the groupings of cars closest to the school. Most of the students had already left for the day, only a few remaining to socialize, their small groups convening closely and dotting around the edges of the massive brick walls. The sun had retreated behind a patch of soft, white clouds, and a light breeze drifted lazily through the tufts of freshly cut grass.

But Blaine didn't notice any of this.

He had already shed his jacket and tie. The sleeves of his dress shirt had been rolled up in expectation. Blaine's eyes boiled with fury as he made his way down to the back entrance, the same door he had rushed through to find Kurt lying unconscious on the sidewalk. He hadn't learned much from taekwondo except for a few good fighting strikes, and nervousness rippled beneath his fiery exterior. Blaine wasn't even sure if Kyle would still be there. He had no idea how long 'counseling sessions' would last; he was relying on his instinct that he would catch the guy somewhere.

He entered the school from the back, finding the familiar map behind the glass display case easily, and followed the most direct route to the counseling office. He was about to round the corner into the appropriate hallway when he heard a loud, raucous voice echo through the air.

"Yeah, I understand what I did wrong now; next time I'll use _words _to show my feelings. Gosh, thanks a bunch Ms. Pillsbury, you're a super teacher."

Blatant sarcasm dripped from the dialogue. Blaine mashed his teeth together and struggled to keep his breathing in control. It was him; that guy, that horrible, wretched excuse for a person.

The warbler poked his head around the edge of the wall, catching his first glimpse of the hockey captain. Kyle was tall and very built, his wide shoulders straining against the thick fabric of his varsity jacket, his face set into a permanent scowl. His dirty blonde hair was cut short, not quite a buzz but close in length. To an outsider, Kyle would look like any other over-glorified jock. To Blaine, the boy epitomized all evil in the world.

Blaine swallowed back the sour taste in his mouth and strode out from behind the safety of the wall, subconsciously flexing the lean but prominent muscles of his biceps as he approached the six foot giant.

"Hey." Blaine spat, his eyes dark with animosity. Kyle turned to face him, observing the much shorter boy across from him with a contemptuous smirk.

"Yeah, what?"

"You're the asshole that beat up Kurt Hummel, aren't you?"

Kyle's unimpressed loftiness careened downwards into a glare, and he balled his hands into rock-like fists. "First off, midget, nobody walks up to me and calls me an asshole unless they wanna wake up from a coma. Second, who the hell do you think you are? Yeah I beat up the kid; he had it coming."

"Oh really? And what exactly did he ever do to you?" Blaine growled. He looked insolently into Kyle's face, ignoring the height difference, and squared his shoulders threateningly. Kyle regarded him as if he were but a grossly fascinating bug.

"Why do you even care? Hummel was a queer anyways; it's not like it really matters."

Blaine fought to keep from exploding; he could already feel the adrenaline pumping through his heart and he could feel the heavy pulse behind his eyes.

"I asked you, what did he ever do to you? Answer the goddamn question."

"Watch what you say to me, pygmy." Kyle snarled, bending his knees slightly as he hunkered down to tower menacingly over Blaine. "And don't look at me like I'm some sort of criminal. I was protecting the common good. Hummel was the biggest flamer in this place; it was only a matter of time before he'd try to cop a feel in the locker room. Something had to be done. I was just the only one in this school who had the man parts to do it. So how bout you wipe that disgusted little look off your face before I beat it out of you and get sent to prison for real this time."

Heat rushed to Blaine's already flushed face, and in that terrifyingly short moment, he swore he could have killed the boy in front of him. He could have reached up and killed him, directly outside the counselor's office with Emma Pillsbury watching in horror from behind the wall of glass.

Blaine breathed deeply and forced down the scream that had been bubbling in his throat. He fixed his eyes unwaveringly into Kyle's and held them there, barely able to keep his hands clenched tightly at his sides from choking the life from the hockey captain's tree trunk of a neck.

"I have a proposition for you, you worthless sack of crap. How about we take a walk and leave Ms. Pillsbury to her work so she doesn't have to see me pummel the living shit out of you?" He hissed, his limbs trembling with the restraint. He waited for the reciprocated anger, but to his surprise, Kyle straightened up out of his half-crouch and tilted his head, looking at him with amused curiosity. Blaine stood defiantly, but confusion undulated beneath the façade.

"You're Hummel's boyfriend, aren't you?" Kyle asked, his tone snide and humorous.

"Yes, I am."

"Huh…" Kyle snorted and his face glazed over with contemplation before he barked out a laugh. "Sure, I'll fight you. Whatever. Yeah, let's take a walk though. I can't afford another suspension." He let out another chuckle before turning away and heading down the hallway at a relaxed pace. Blaine stood in shock for a moment before snapping out of his frozen stance and following in a hurry. He kept a few paces behind Kyle, not trusting him enough to keep his word to a fair fight. The pair exited out the back entrance—this particular door, by that point, had been ingrained in Blaine's memory—and walked across the sidewalk and into the nearby grassy field. Blaine glanced around to see that everybody had left, and the rear wall of the school and its surrounding area lay empty and desolate. He swallowed hard as he realized the reality of what he was about to do. There was a chance that, unlike Kurt, he wouldn't be able to make the phone call that might save him.

Kyle stopped about midway across the field and turned to face Blaine, the same expression from before plastered plainly across his features. He examined his competition with the same mild fascination, and Blaine stayed guarded and confused, unsure of what to make of the change in attitude. After a drawn out moment, Kyle rolled his shoulders sportingly and gestured for Blaine to come into fighting range.

"Well, let's get this started. I have stuff to do."

Blaine shuffled forward uneasily, his anger slowly melting away into shaky fear. What was he doing? He positioned his fists protectively in front of his face and rolled up on the balls of his feet. Everything he'd learned from taekwondo rushed into his head in a discombobulated mess.

"You know what?" Kyle said, throwing Blaine a mocking smile. "I'm a lot bigger than you, so I'll let you have the first punch. Whaddya say?"

A tense moment passed before Blaine nodded tersely and shifted forward. Kyle let his arms flop down to his side and he grinned condescendingly at Blaine before nodding for him to have a go. Blaine sucked in a deep breath of air, resisting the urge to close his eyes, before lashing out with his fist and catching Kyle in the gut. There was a small whoosh of air as the taller boy's breath left him, but other than that, he didn't move an inch. Blaine stepped back and rubbed lightly at his fist, which was throbbing slightly from the impact.

Kyle joined his hands together and cracked his knuckles eagerly. "Okay, now it's my turn."

Before Blaine could process it or put his hands up for protection, Kyle's massive fist flashed forward, clipping him hard across the jaw. Blaine felt the slivers of pain as his teeth shredded the inside of his cheek, and he stumbled backwards before falling to the ground, landing square on his back as grass stains ground into his pristine white shirt. He waited where he was on the ground and tried to prepare himself for the onslaught coming next, but to his astonishment, Kyle made no move towards him. Blaine sat up halfway in the grass, watching with dazed suspicion and fear as Kyle brushed himself off nonchalantly and began to make his way back over to the school.

"W-what are you doing?" Blaine tried to speak with the same power and aggression that he had before, but for some reason, he couldn't collect enough air to produce the right sound.

Kyle chuckled lightly again, turning back around so he was facing Blaine. "Don't worry hobbit, I'm not gonna kill you. I mean, you're still a queer and you're probably going to hell, but you've got balls, kid. You face your problems like a man. Not like the fairy you're dating. Maybe you should try out chicks for a while, huh? You have the potential to switch back."

On that note, Kyle ended the conversation and made off for the lot, leaving Blaine sitting stunned in the middle of the empty field.

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><p><strong>AN: I know this one is shorter, but ohmygod I had such a hard time writing this. Sorry I updated later than usual; it's been such a busy week. Anyway, the next chapter will be fluffier than this; this is just plain old angst, but I had to tie up loose ends with Kyle's punishment. **


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: So this chapter is basically half angst and half fluff. Just as a warning, the second half is kinda steamy—not to the extent where I'd have to change the rating, of course, but just more so than usual. Anyway, hope you like it! **

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><p>Kurt was cleaning up the aftershock of his ice cream fiasco and straightening his comforter when he heard the front door open upstairs. It was only a few seconds later that he realized his dad shouldn't have been home for nearly another two hours, and he set one of his decorative pillows down to listen. There was no greeting, and he felt a twinge of apprehension twist in his gut.<p>

"Hello?" He called cautiously, inching towards the stairs. He climbed them carefully, staying on the balls of his feet so as not to make a sound. When he reached the top of the stairs, he crept through the hallway and peeked around the wall to look into the kitchen.

Oh. It was Blaine. Kurt sighed as relief swept through him. Blaine stood with his back to him over the kitchen sink, washing his hands and dabbing his face lightly with a wet paper towel. Kurt's happiness dropped slightly as he took in his boyfriend's appearance, noticing how his dress shirt was stained with patches of ugly green and his slacks were rumpled and covered with flecks of dead grass.

"Um…Blaine? Did you fall?" Kurt asked. Blaine jerked up, obviously startled and spun around, his hand frozen over his lips.

"H-hey baby, I didn't hear you come up...er—how was your day at school?"

Kurt furrowed his eyebrows worriedly. "I didn't go to school today, remember? Sill recovering…Blaine, is everything alright?"

"Yeah yeah, everything's fine."

Kurt looked at him skeptically, ambling over and grabbing the hand Blaine was using to cover his mouth.

"Ah—wait, wait I can explain—" Blaine stammered, but Kurt forcibly removed the obstruction before he could say any more.

Nothing on his face appeared out of the ordinary, so why was Blaine trying to hide something? At least, that was Kurt's initial thought. Only until his eyes fully adjusted did he see that Blaine's lower lip was swollen, as well as his cheek, and a faint blotch of grayish purple was creeping along the lower curve of his chiseled jaw. He looked long and hard at the injury and the guilty gleam in his boyfriend's eyes before stepping back and crossing his arms over his chest.

"What did you do?" Kurt asked bluntly. Blaine swallowed and rubbed at the back of his neck, glancing around at the kitchen, his eyes directed anywhere but the boy in front of him.

"Er…I…might have…possibly…there was a bit of a—uh—confrontation…well not even that much of an confrontation…actually I wouldn't really consider it an confrontation at all, more of like a little spat with…maybe that's not the right word either—"

"Out with it, Blaine."

"I…er…well I sort of had a little talk with…with Kyle and—"

"_What?_" Kurt exploded, throwing his arms up in the air and then grimacing at the wave of pain the motion caused. After the searing of his ribs dulled enough, he strode angrily around the kitchen, fisting clumps of his hair as het let out a frustrated groan. "Why why why _why oh why _would you do that! Are you insane? Are you…what the…what in the _hell_…what would possess you to_ do_ that Blaine? I don't…I can't even…_what the hell?_"

"Kurt! KurtKurtKurt calm down…" Blaine said desperately. He held his hands out to try and comfort the furious boy striding around the kitchen in front of him, but then thought against it, his arms remaining awkwardly outstretched in midair.

Kurt continued to growl to himself for another minute, pacing around in front of his refrigerator before coming to a stop and pressing two fingers in his temples, taking a slow, deep breath.

"You could have been hurt. Badly. Very, very badly."

"I-I know, and I'm so sorry, I wasn't thinking—"

"You could have woken up in the emergency room."

"Yes I know but—"

"You could have even been killed."

"W-well I suppose—"

"Blaine." Kurt interrupted again, but this time his voice held a strange, powerful conviction. He looked over at the shorter boy with sad, tearless eyes, his gaze boring into him with an unfathomable amount of emotion. Blaine stood, bolted to the floor beneath him, the final rush of guilt and the new wave of self loathing swallowing him all at once, drowning out any remnants of anger from before until he could barely remember its sour tinge. He felt broken.

"…Yes?"

"How in the world could you do that to me?"

Blaine felt as if he had received a punch to the chest. "K-Kurt, I'm so sorry…please, I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking…I love you and I was angry about what he did to you and I felt like…I don't know what I felt, but please forgive me because I am sorry. I am truly, infinitely, unmistakably sorry. Kurt I love you. I love you so, so much…"

Kurt's breathing hitched and moisture started to seep out and gather along the bottom ridge of his eyes. He stared at Blaine from across the kitchen for a moment, taking shallow, shuddering breaths before squeezing his eyes shut and running over to his boyfriend, letting out a quiet cry. Blaine caught him carefully and brought him in close so that Kurt's head was nestled deep into the crook of his neck, so close that he could feel the tears against his skin. Kurt cried silently for another moment before placing feverish kisses up and down Blaine's jawbone, clutching his fingers into the shorter boy's hair at his nape as if he had plans on staying there forever.

"Don't _ever_ do that again. _Ever_. Promise me."

"I promise." Blaine whispered into his ear.

"No more fighting."

"I promise no more fighting."

"Good." Kurt sniffled, lifting his head up to rest his forehead against Blaine's. He leaned in to press his lips tenderly against his boyfriend's, Blaine's arms snaking around Kurt's thin frame and drawing him closer.

"I don't know what I'd do if I lost you." Kurt said after a minute.

"You won't lose me. You will never, ever lose me. And I pray that I will never, ever lose you. I love you. I love you more than anything else in this world."

Kurt smiled weakly and sniffled, leaning in for another long kiss, his lips moving slowly and comfortingly against Blaine's as he drank in what he considered to be true bliss.

Kurt disconnected when he felt Blaine flinch beneath him, sighing as he looked into Blaine's eyes that were filled with renewed guilt.

"Sorry…just hurts a little."

"What did he do to you?" He murmured, massaging his fingers along the back of Blaine's neck.

"Nothing really. He caught me once across the jaw but that's about it. It tore the inside of my mouth a little…but it's nothing." Blaine's eyes were guarded and stony, but Kurt could see the brewing storm of emotions swirling beneath the deceptively calm exterior.

Kurt frowned with pity and concern and reached around to cup Blaine's cheek, leaning against the boy's forehead again and closing his eyes with feeling. "You don't have to be the tough guy in all of this. It's okay to be vulnerable."

A moment after the words left his mouth, Kurt felt Blaine shudder beneath him, the boy's limbs trembling from the loss of restraint, the aftershock of his experience finally setting in. Blaine moved so that his forehead pressed into Kurt's shoulder, breathing wearily as he struggled to clutch himself closer.

"I'm s-sorry that y-you ever had to go through that, Kurt," Blaine said, his quivering voice muffled by that fabric of Kurt's shirt. "H-he's…it's terrifying."

"I…I know." Kurt replied lamely, unsure of what to say as Blaine trembled in his arms. Eventually, Blaine calmed enough to pull back and look gratefully into Kurt's loving eyes, taking a few more shaky breaths to steady himself, grazing his fingertips along the length of Kurt's cheekbones and leaving warms trails of pink behind them. Kurt smiled at the tenderness of the moment and he lightly gripped Blaine's hips in his hands, kneading his thumbs in small circles along the divots where the bone dipped downwards.

"Did you at least get in a good swipe?" Kurt joked, a touch of remaining sadness mixing with his humor. Blaine's eyes crinkled, and he hummed contentedly when Kurt's hands pushed down deep into the front pockets of his slacks, nestling themselves into the smooth, nylon cloth. The gesture was absent of any sexual undertone, rather, it was soothing and relaxed and familiar.

"Actually, now that you ask, I did."

Kurt raised his eyebrows in disbelief and Blaine scoffed, feigning offense. "What? You don't think I can defend myself?" He smiled again and pressed a quick peck to the tip of Kurt's nose. "I probably would have done better had you not been such a distraction in taekwondo class."

Kurt rolled his eyes and giggled, his fingers twitching and grazing Blaine's thighs as his body shook with restricted laughter. Blaine breathed a sigh and tightened his hold on Kurt, careful not to squeeze too tightly for fear of hurting him, and kissed meaningfully, running the pads of his fingers slowly along Kurt's back and up his soft, chestnut hair.

They stood in the kitchen for another few minutes, settling down from the onslaught of emotion with slow touches and kisses, eventually moving to the couch where they curled up against each other and watched a cheesy romantic comedy. The boys fell asleep together a half hour in, their legs entwined on the sofa intimately with the soft, wool afghan draped across their joined figures, the worn frays brushing along their necks and tickling their chins as they slumbered soundly in the warm light of the sunset peering through the open windows.

* * *

><p>The next week passed quickly, too quickly for the days to blend together in one indistinguishable haze like they did in the heat of summer, but slow enough for Kurt to miss the relaxation his days off had provided. His recovery break was over; he was due back at school the next day, and he was already feeling the nervousness writhing listlessly through his body.<p>

Blaine had visited almost every afternoon, sometimes staying for dinner and once even spending the night. Burt had made him sleep in the guest room, as expected, but Kurt had nevertheless snuck upstairs in the middle of the night to visit him. The pain in his ribs had died down and, with the help of his prescribed medication, became manageable enough that it did not draw attention unless there was direct, physical contact.

This, however, posed a problem when it came to his romantics with Blaine.

The issue was made evident that night as Kurt sat at the kitchen table, worrying his bottom lip as he thought about the prospect of returning to the hellhole that was his high school. Blaine was shuffling through the kitchen, grabbing ingredients out of cupboards and off of shelves, glancing occasionally at one of Carol's dusty, unused cookbooks he had discovered lying in a pile in the corner of the guest room upstairs.

"It says here that you have to use just the egg whites. What does that mean?"

Kurt looked up from his downward-spiraling reverie and took in the sight of his boyfriend dressed in the white tank top from the party and a pair of red and black plaid boxers, both covered by a flour-dusted apron that cinched slightly at Blaine's waist. Kurt licked his lips absentmindedly, fighting a grin when he saw the puffs of white that were caught in numerous places in Blaine's dark, freed curls.

"It means that you have to sift out the yolk using your fingers. Here, I'll show you," Kurt replied, lifting himself off the chair and strolling over to Blaine's side. His eyes caught on the delicious shadows of Blaine's lean biceps and a familiar hunger rumbled through him. Blaine held out an egg helplessly, watching closely as Kurt cracked it expertly on the countertop and held its gooey contents in his hand over the mixing bowl, allowing the clear substance to slip through his slightly parted fingers, leaving the yellow core behind in his palm.

"See, it's easy. You try." Kurt said, offering the leftover ball of yolk to Blaine. Blaine looked at it with piqued curiosity and reached his index finger out to poke it once, giggling like a child.

"It's squishy."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Indeed, it is squishy. Now stop playing with it and go grab another egg so you can do this yourself." He turned towards the sink to dump the yolk down the drain, but Blaine caught him on the arm.

"Wait, you're not going to break it, are you?"

"What? The yolk? Of course I am; we don't need it."

"But you can't! It's like a perfect little squishy ball!"

Kurt repressed a bubble of laughter at Blaine's phrasing, and he held the yolk playfully at bay from Blaine's reaching fingers.

"I'm sorry Blaine," he said dramatically. "I have to kill your little friend."

"No, don't kill him!"

"So it's a 'him' now?"

"Yes, it is a 'him'."

"What's his name?"

"…Chad."

"_Chad_?"

"Yes, Chad."

Kurt broke out into hysterical laughter, wincing as pain lanced through his chest but too humored to care. He didn't even notice when the film around the yolk slipped through the gaps in his fingers and dropped to the floor, splattering in all directions as it hit the slate colored tile. Blaine's eyes bugged out for a moment before he dropped to his knees next to the yellow mess.

"Nooo! Poor Chad! Cut down in the prime of his life! How could you! I shall avenge him!" Blaine shook his fist in the air and then jumped back onto his feet, grabbing a handful of flour from the open bag nearby and tossing a giant plume into Kurt unsuspecting face.

"Oh _no you didn't_!" Kurt sputtered around a mouthful of powder. Blaine laughed as he looked at his boyfriend's face caked in white, his grin contorting in shock as Kurt grabbed another egg and smashed it against his forehead. Blaine's eyes crossed as he watched a glob of egg drip down the bridge of his nose and plop onto the floor. He looked back up at Kurt, a playful glint in his eye.

"Now, my dear friend, it is war."

Movement erupted in the kitchen as the boys flung handfuls of ingredients at one another, ducking and rolling along the floor combat-style as slimy projectiles slammed against the walls and cabinets, hitting the fridge with a pang and crash-landing in the sink. Carefree laughter filled the room and Kurt dashed to the pantry, grabbing the first bottles of cooking ingredients he saw and squirting out their contents at Blaine who stood frozen in surprise as his face was doused in a fountain of maple syrup.

"So, do you surrender, or do I have to unleash my entire arsenal on your ass?" Kurt gestured grandly to the rest of his pantry, smiling as Blaine held up his hands in response.

"Yes, yes, I surrender. Oh dear god, your father's gonna kill me." Blaine grinned, glancing around at the destroyed kitchen.

As the excitement died down, Kurt began to look at Blaine in a different light. The hunger from before surfaced again as he noticed the way the syrup dripped down beneath the neckline of Blaine's tank top. Kurt's lips parted of their own accord, and then he was striding over to his boyfriend, forcibly pulling him in for a heated kiss.

Blaine's eyes shot open at Kurt's boldness as the slightly taller boy tangled his long, lithe fingers in his dark hair, pulling roughly but lovingly as their mouths met with rough passion. Kurt led the kiss, catching the taste of the syrup on Blaine's lips with his tongue, his boyfriend letting out a groan as Kurt's tongue darted past the barrier of their lips and rolled along the inside of Blaine's mouth.

For both boys, this kind of contact was long overdue. They loved each other and respected one another's feelings, especially in the recent emotional times, but they were still teenage boys. They still needed the feeling of physical connection, the feeling of raw, animalistic fervor. It had been nearly a week and a half since Kurt and Blaine had focused on this aspect of their relationship, and the amount of pent up frustration was soon made apparent as Kurt pinned Blaine against the refrigerator and ravished him with astounding aggression.

His hips bucked forward involuntarily at another one of Blaine's low moans, and the friction was dizzying.

"Ah…nng, K-Kurt…" Blaine breathed and slumped back against the fridge, his arms shaking as he tried not to grip Kurt too tightly. Kurt growled, irritated that he could not be held closer, wanting the contact badly now that Blaine had been reduced to a puddle of stuttering incoherency.

"Dammit." He hissed, clenching his teeth in pained ecstasy as Blaine ground his hips harder against him.

"What's the matter?" Blaine asked, his voice deep and gravelly and intoxicating, obviously trying to carefully form his words through the haze of friction-induced pleasure. He stilled the motion of his hips to cease any of Kurt's discomfort, but his lips compensated by trailing along his body, over his collar bone and along his neck, sucking insistently at Kurt's pulse point and making the taller boy emit a low, quivering whimper.

"Can we d-do this somewhere else?" Kurt asked, his tone desperate and begging. Blaine nodded against him and pulled him out of the kitchen and down the basement stairs, throwing himself onto Kurt's bed and pulling the boy on top of him so that Kurt rested gently on his chest.

"Is this okay?" Blaine murmured, his hands sweeping down to clutch at the back of Kurt's upper thighs, digging his fingers in slightly at the wave of sensations coursing through his body.

"Perfect." Kurt growled, bending down and covering Blaine's mouth with his own, his tongue dipping down to taste the boy writhing beneath him.

It didn't take long for them to resume their previous rhythm, and soon Kurt's room was full of the sound of short gasps and low groans. Blaine's boxers left nothing to the imagination, and Kurt couldn't help but immerse himself in the feel of his boyfriend's body, his lips leaving Blaine's skin only when the physical need for breathing became too much to ignore.

Eventually, Kurt could feel the warm pooling of heat in his core, and he shuddered violently at Blaine's continuous movement. Even the little voice in his head reminding him that he was wearing Marc Jacob's designer jeans was overpowered by the sheer pleasure, and he braced himself against the inevitable sensation that was approaching.

And then…disaster.

"_What in god's name happened in here!_"

Oh shit.

All movement stopped and the boys' bodies froze in place.

Shit. Shit shit shit…

"_Kurt! Kurt Elizabeth Hummel! Where are you!_"

Kurt's blood turned icy as he heard his father's booming voice from upstairs. The situation was obvious. Burt had come home to a completely trashed kitchen and was downright furious. Kurt prayed reverently that his father had not overheard his and Blaine's 'activities' as well.

"_If you don't get up here this _instant, _there will be _dire_ consequences, young man!_"

Blaine looked dumbstruck and deathly afraid. He sent Kurt a frightened, helpless look, his mouth opening and closing silently as if the ability to speak had been sucked out of him.

"O-oh my god…Oh my god…" Kurt panicked, throwing himself off his bed and grimacing as he looked down to examine his obvious 'problem'. A half second passed and then he was racing around his room stripping off his tight pants as he ran. Blaine watched in mild interest as Kurt bent down in his briefs to pick up a pair of loose fitting sweatpants, but his lust turned to terror again as he heard Burt's loud, angry footsteps through the ceiling.

Kurt yanked off his designer sweater and replaced it with a pajama shirt, rumpling it a little to look as if he had been wearing that outfit for a while. He kicked his old clothes under his bed and darted over to the stairs, motioning for Blaine to get up off his bed in case his father decided to come down. After Blaine practically log rolled off the side of the mattress, Kurt continued upstairs, but then a last minute thought occurred to him and he scurried back down where he could look at Blain from over the banister.

"Put some pants on!" He hissed. Blaine nodded quickly and then spun around to yank open Kurt's dresser drawers.

"But they're all skinny jeans! Don't you have any other sweatpants?"

"No, this is my only pair!"

"What? You've got to be joking! What do I do, then?"

Kurt threw his hands up in flurried gestures. "I-I don't know! Take…take care of it!"

"Take care of what?"

Kurt groaned. "You know…_it_!"

Blaine's eyes flickered with comprehension and he looked down at his boxers and over at Kurt's ready, waiting bathroom.

"What? Now! You're crazy!"

"Do it quick! It shouldn't take that long!"

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"God, Blaine, just do it or I'll freaking do it for you!"

"…I wouldn't mind that so much, actually."

Kurt scoffed loudly and turned away, leaving Blaine to his business as he strode up the stairs to confront his father.

He inched sheepishly into the kitchen, his stomach sinking as he realized how much of a mess they had really made. Every inch of surface was covered in glommed-on flour and chunks of egg shells, and a continuous steady drip of syrup and, somehow vegetable oil, rained down from the refrigerator handle.

His father's form stood hunched over in the center of his room, still dressed in the sky blue mechanic's jumpsuit, the fabric rippling under his deep breaths.

"H-hey Dad. You're home early…" Kurt squeaked. Burt turned on his heels to face his son, his eyes flat and humorless but, to Kurt's relief, not as enraged as his voice had sounded a minute ago. Rather, his father donned a helpless, exhausted sort of anger, obviously too tired to deal with his son's shenanigans and only energetic enough to provide some necessary form of fatherly parenting.

"What did you do?" He asked wearily.

"W-well, um, Blaine and I were making dinner a-and we sort of, uh, had a food fight…?"

Burt sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "Well, where is he now?"

"Um, he's, uh, using the bathroom…" Kurt answered. He knew that, technically, it wasn't a lie. Blaine _was_ using the bathroom…just in a completely different way.

"Okay…okay, just…clean this up before Carol gets home." Burt gestured to the room around him. His wife would kill him if she saw the house in this state. He started making his way out of the kitchen, calming himself with the idea of a nice, long, relaxing shower to help him forget all of this, his hands rubbing at his eyes like a tired child. As he turned into the hallway, he called one last thing to his son who was still frozen in the kitchen, his voice cracking with exhausted embarrassment.

"Oh, and next time, close your door, alright? I love you and all, Kurt, but, as a father…I don't need to hear all of that."


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Ohmygod so I'm freaking out right now because **_**holy bajeezus,**_** over ****11,000 hits! OK…in retrospect, that's probably not all that much in comparison to other stories, but seriously guys, for me, it's freakin awesome XD I mean, this is the first time I've ever really published my stuff rather than just keeping it to myself or showing a couple close friends, so I'm really **_**really**_** excited right now. **

***happy dance***

**Anyway, in other news, I'm thinking of starting a new story with Kurt and Blaine as the main characters—love those guys *smiles fondly*— that takes place in the world of Daybreakers. If you haven't heard of or seen that movie and you're a bit of a suspense/horror junkie like me, I advise you to check it out. It's not the **_**best**_** movie I've seen—but then again, how many truly good movies have come out recently anyways?—but it's certainly not the worst and I absolutely love its premise. I'm going to try to get a head start on it before I post any chapters so I don't fall behind, but I'm looking forward to writing a supernatural-esque fic. **

**Wow, this A/N is really long, sorry bout that, I should get back to writing…**

* * *

><p><em>You can do it. Have courage. I love you. <em>

Kurt repeated Blaine's message in his head like a mantra.

_Courage. Have courage. I love you. You can do it. I can do it. I can do this. I can…_

He inhaled deeply, exiting out of Blaine's text and returning his phone to its rightful place inside of his navy blue satin slacks. The dry, cold air shooting through the vents of his AC chilled him enough so he could focus, and he closed his eyes for a moment, wishing profusely that he could stay where he was in his car, away from the danger and the fear and the abuse.

Three brisk taps sounded on his window and Kurt jolted in his seat, looking up to see Mercedes standing just outside, brandishing a brown bag and smiling hopefully. Kurt grinned half-heartedly back and opened his door, stepping carefully out so as not to jostle his torso, and gave her a loose hug.

"Hey 'Cedes."

"Welcome back, hun. I got you a little something." She wiggled the bag again and set it in Kurt's outstretched fingers. Kurt looked at her gratefully and unwrapped the top, a wonderful, warm, sweet smell hitting him as reached inside to retrieve his gift. His fingers closed around the object and he pulled it out, smiling hugely as he examined the bakery-fresh chocolate chip muffin in his palm, still hot from the oven.

"Thank you so much. Aw, this is my favorite." He beamed, holding the muffin up to his nose and taking a whiff. He sighed at the scent, praising whoever's idea it was to combine chocolate and freshly baked bread.

"I figured you needed a little pick-me-up before you started your day." She said softly, placing her hand comfortingly on his shoulder. Kurt leaned into her touch, his smile fading slowly as he placed the muffin back in its bag.

"Y-yeah…it's going to be a hard one. The good thing is that Kyle's not back from his suspension yet, so I won't have to look out for him." He sighed, crossing his arms protectively across his chest. "What I'm worried about is all of his lackeys. They're not just going to leave me alone while Kyle's gone; I'm not stupid enough to believe that. What if they follow his example? Figgins has already shown them that punishment for violence is lax, so what will stop them from doing whatever the please?"

Mercedes didn't answer at first; she was trying to formulate the right response to console her best friend, but she couldn't think of one thing to say that would do any good for his situation. Instead, she kept quiet and rubbed soothing circles on Kurt's shoulders, guiding him slowly away from his car and towards the building.

The school looked exactly the same as the last time he'd been there. Kurt didn't know why he expected it to be different; he'd only missed a week. He figured that a small part of him must have been expecting some sort of change after his debacle, a small shift in the air, a tip of the balance, just _something_ to acknowledge his struggle. It struck him that, despite his troubles, despite the world altering event that had bent and broken him, the earth spun along anyway. The rest of the planet moved on. It wasn't as significant as he thought it would be.

"Kurt, is something wrong?"

Mercedes' voice broke through the haze and he looked over to her, realizing with a start that he'd begun to cry, the teardrop rolling down his cheek and nestling in the corner of his lips. He wiped it hastily away with the back of his hand and nodded, turning silently back towards the school and pushing past the double doors like a condemned man entering his tomb.

* * *

><p>"Hey Kurt!" Finn called, jogging lightly down the hallway to catch up with his stepbrother.<p>

It was nearing towards the end of the day, and Kurt was already dog tired from his daily psychological beating, sliding his Doc Martens along the grimy speckled tile as he trudged to the choir room. His week of break had spoiled him and he had yet to fully adjust to the taunting again.

"Finn. How are you?" He mumbled, not looking up to catch the jock's worried glance.

"Er…I'm doing fine. What about you? Rachel told me you were looking pretty bummed in math today so…"

Kurt kept his eyes trained to the floor, taking a long, drawn out breath.

"Just…just a hard day. Nothing to worry about." He said. Finn seemed to debate something in his head for a moment before opening his mouth to speak.

"Kurt, listen. I know we're not technically related and everything, but…you're my brother. I love you, man, and I'm worried about you. You haven't said anything all day and…and ever since your run-in with Kyle, you've been acting weird…I mean, he beat you to a pulp and you weren't even that phased about it afterwards. I…I don't want you to feel like this is just part of life, Kurt—"

"Look," Kurt interrupted. "I get it, alright?" His eyes showed no emotion and Finn flinched from the lifeless stare. "You don't have to worry about me. I'm fine."

Finn nodded, still perplexed and uneasy. Kurt gave him one last meaningful glance before striding off down the hallway towards the choir room door.

* * *

><p>"Hey, baby?"<p>

"Yea, Blaine?"

"I think we need to talk."

Kurt froze in his position on the couch, his body stiffening against his boyfriend's. They were stretched out on the plush cushions, a bowl of low fat popcorn wedged between their chests and listening to E! news about the latest celebrity scandals as they shared light, comfortable kisses.

_We need to talk…_ Kurt's immediate response to those words was obvious and discernable. They were always the precursor words to the nest phrase: _I'm breaking up with you. _Blaine sensed his panic and began backtracking, stroking Kurt's hair in quick, flurried motions.

"No no no, not like that kind of talk, no…just…Your friends at school are concerned about you, that's all."

Kurt furrowed his browed irritably and huffed a sigh, willing himself to calm down from his miniature heart attack. "Oh them? I wouldn't really worry too much about what they say. My New Directions buddies tend to be a bit dramatic sometimes."

"Well, they sounded pretty sincere." Blaine argued, his fingertips moving down to frame Kurt's cheekbones.

A quick burst of electricity sparked through the air and ignited something invisible in Kurt. The mood seemed to flip three-hundred sixty degrees and suddenly he felt a sickening kind of lurch in his chest.

"So?" Kurt snapped. He recoiled from Blaine's light hand, pushing it away in frustration. "Just because they say there's something wrong doesn't mean they know what the problem is. What if there is no problem? What if I'm absolutely fine, like I keep telling them? What if—stop looking at me like that!" He yelled, shocking the caring expression off of Blaine's features. He rose up swiftly from the couch, knocking the popcorn bowl over in the process. "Well, shit! Now I have to wash the damn cushions again."

"Kurt…what's wrong?" Blaine asked quietly, still hurt from Kurt raising his voice.

Kurt wrung his hands roughly through his scalp, trying to massage away the stress like Blaine always used to do, but for some reason, he didn't want Blaine to do it this time.

"I'm…so _sick_ and _tired_…" Kurt hissed through clenched teeth. He didn't know why he was so angry all of a sudden. He didn't want to be, especially not in front of Blaine, who seemed to be taking it personally. He just knew that he was, and the only way he could calm himself down was to get the feelings out once and for all. "…of being treated like a defenseless _baby_ all of the time. I can take care of myself. I don't _need_ anybody _else_." An infuriated sound scratched through his throat, forcing its way through his teeth in what sounded like a half-strangled growl. "They don't know me. They don't know what is in my head, but they think they _do_. Why do they just make these _assumptions_ every time they see me looking sad? Do I have to be cheery every day? Do I have to perpetually have a _smile _on my face for the rest of my life? No!"

"K-Kurt…"

"Why do they think they're just _entitled_ to butt into my life all of a sudden? What gives them the right to start telling people all about my supposed '_troubles_' when there aren't any! Do they even know what that makes me look like? Do they know how that makes me _feel_? They say their 'concerned' about me, but they're not even taking the time to hear my end of the story, so now I look like a depressed, whiny little _bitch_!"

"Kurt—"

"_What_!"

A stunning silence chilled the air and turned Blaine's blood icy, his mouth hanging half open as he tried to remember what it was he wanted to say. The only source of heat in his body flooded to his face and his felt his lips begin to tremble and his eyes start to sting.

"I…" He started, his breath catching on the lump in his throat. "…I think I s-should go…"

As if his anger was a red balloon, Kurt's emotions suddenly burst and deflated. His eyes widened in an owl-like fashion and his hands dropped limply to his sides, weighed down by the heavy guilt that flushed across his cheeks and coursed through his veins.

Blaine had already gotten up to grab his jacket that had been slung across the back of one of the kitchen chairs, his hurried steps echoing across the wood floor of the foyer as he approached the front entrance. Kurt snapped out of his trance as he heard the door slam closed, and he raced across his house as fast as his feet would carry him, wrenching on the brass handle and flinging himself outside onto his front step. Blaine was backing out of the driveway, the obvious, shining tears glistening down his face through the tinted windshield.

"B-Blaine, wait!" Kurt cried, darting over to the driver's side window. He gripped the frame of the car as if he were going to try and hold it in place, staring at his boyfriend desperately through the glass. Blaine was looking pointedly at the steering wheel in front of him, ignoring the onslaught of salty droplets falling into his lap and seeping into the fabric of his slacks.

"Blaine, I-I'm sorry! Please don't leave like this! Please, _please_! I'm so, so sorry, Blaine, please…!"

Blaine took a shuddering breath and pressed down on the button to lower his window, Kurt's voice losing the muffled quality and pouring sharp and clear into the cab of his car.

"I didn't mean to yell at you, I promise…I love you more than anything else in this world. I was stupid…I was such a grade 'A' asshole…I'm so, so sorry; please don't leave, please…"

He glanced over at Kurt's quivering frame, his boyfriend's face contorting in unrecognized pain as his muscles flexed in his core from pulling on the car, the unshed tears glittering lightly in the sun where they rested against Kurt's reddened rims.

He sighed.

"P-please…I love you…" Kurt blubbered, but the sound came as a breathy whisper.

Blaine turned the key in the ignition and waited as the engine died.

"I love you, too." He whispered back.

He pushed his door open slowly, giving Kurt enough time to back away before it toppled him, and stepped onto the driveway. The two boys stood facing each other for a moment, the air in Kurt's lungs hitching in frightened anticipation of what Blaine would say next. He was waiting for the disclaimer. He was waiting for the 'but'.

Blaine stepped forwards and enveloped Kurt in his arms, squeezing him tightly enough that it would cause pain, though he didn't mean to, his nose burying itself in his boyfriend's neck as he inhaled and overwhelmed himself with Kurt's intoxicating scent, the one smell that made him feel at home in himself.

And then they began to unravel.

Neither Kurt nor Blaine had ever recalled a moment as bittersweet as this, their warm, trailing tears pooling together as they shared frantic, sob-broken kisses under the sweltering sun. They wrapped around one another as if they feared that without the embrace they would fall apart. Both of them knew on some level how silly this all was, how insignificant their fight had been in comparison to those of other couples, but it was, in fact, their first one, and they had been unprepared and unequipped for the hurt.

They continued like that for a while, even as passing cars with ignorant drivers looked upon them with distaste. They needed this time to redeem themselves in each other.

Finally, after the heat of the day began to take its toll and the boys had cried themselves out, they linked hands meaningfully, stealing one last, tender kiss before heading back inside to the cool air.

**A/N: So I know this one is shorter than usual, but I felt like they needed to have at least one fight so they would be more human. No couple is perfect, not even Klaine, sadly. But it's okay, because their bond will strengthen after this. Oh, and I still haven't forgotten about Rachel and Finn's date. **


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: First of all, HUGE apologies for the delay. Jeez, my life couldn't have gotten any busier in the past couple weeks. I had just enough time to write the first chapter of my new story Daybreakers—I wanted to get it written before I forgot the whole thing—so at least that's good, but other than that, I've barely written anything.**

**Anyway, this chapter picks up a few days later—by this point Kurt has had enough time to get readjusted, so it won't be so angsty.**

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><p>"I can't wait! It's going to be absolutely perfect!" Rachel squealed, waving her fists excitedly in the air as Kurt rolled his eyes. "It's so romantic, Kurt. I don't even know where I'm going tonight because he wanted the restaurant to be a surprise. Oh, I just have a feeling there's going to be candles and roses and soft, tasteful music in the background, and maybe even dancing if Finn doesn't step on me in the process," she sighed in a love struck way, twirling her god-awful wool skirt along with her as they made their way to the back lot of the school. Kurt had been left alone with her by an unavoidable bout of bad luck, and ever since then she had felt the need to describe the upcoming date in detail, even though she had no idea what was to come.<p>

Kurt still remembered why he and Blaine threw their party in the first place; they wanted in on reviving the Finchel pairing. They were so close, too, until life got in the way and the Kurt landed in the hospital. By that time, Kurt had assumed that Finn and Rachel's date had already passed or had simply collapsed in the heap of everything else that was happening at the time. What he didn't expect was for Finn to delay it for his sake. Kurt grimaced to himself as his step-brother's words reverberated in his head for the hundredth time in the same desperate, pleading tone.

_"Dude, I need your help. I'm totally freaking out right now about the dinner with Rachel and I have no clue what to do and I just know that she's expecting this crazy, sappy night, but you're really good at all this so I figured that maybe you might want to help plan it, maybe? I swear, I won't tell Rachel you were in on it; I just need help from someone who's good at all this. Please? You wouldn't turn a bro down, would you?"_

No, he couldn't turn his 'bro' down. But, unfortunately, Finn's idea of extra help meant dumping all of the planning responsibilities onto Kurt so he could sit back and wait for the final product. Not that Kurt had much to complain about; he truly did love planning. The only thing that irked him was the lack of credit on his part. Normally the satisfaction of planning came from the glory afterwards. Once that was taken away from him, Kurt had nothing to enjoy but his own approval which, like in most situations, failed to make him happy.

Now he was stuck listening to Rachel prattle on about an event that Finn had no hand in construing.

"What if he spontaneously bursts into song? Oh, that would be so amazing of him, don't you think, Kurt?"

"Mmhm." Kurt grunted, heaving a deep breath. They were outside finally and Kurt could see his car from where they were walking on the sidewalk. _Salvation, thank god…_

"Ooh, and you know what would make it the best night ever?"

"Hm?"

"What if he took me by the hands, like a true gentleman, and kissed me under the stars?"

Kurt nodded noncommittally, his eyes locked on the driver's side door handle of his car and his right hand clamped around his keys, the correct one already selected and held between his thumb and forefinger for easy access.

"Kurt?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't you think that would make it the best night ever?"

Kurt sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, reminding himself that he was, in fact, talking with Rachel, one of the most demanding, irrational people he'd ever met. There was a certain amount of consideration you had to take when communicating with her in comparison to speaking with someone sane.

"Look, Rachel, there's something I think you're forgetting here."

Her expressive face contorted with confusion.

"What's that?"

"This is _Finn_ we're talking about." Kurt emphasized. "It doesn't matter how nice the place is where he takes you or how fancy the food is or whether or not a string quartet pops out of nowhere in the background to play you two love songs." He smirked lightly at the hopeful glint in Rachel's eyes, but continued nonetheless. "You still need to brace yourself for the romantically inept buffoon that is Finn Hudson." A frown pulled at his lips as he considered this himself, the possibility that his impeccably planned night would be ruined because his step-brother could not execute it properly. He reminded himself that before Finn left, he would need to give him some tips on dating etiquette.

Rachel seemed to consider this seriously for once, and her bottom lip pushed out into a pout.

"I guess…I guess you're right. I mean, what am I thinking...?" she let out one sad, humorless laugh. "This _is_ Finn. I can't expect a fairytale night. I have to be reasonable. I can't…I just can't expect that much."

Something in Rachel's tone made Kurt look back over at her, and he was surprised to see the excitement completely drained from her formerly sparkling eyes and replaced with a dull sort of acceptance. A heavy guilt washed through him though he tried to fight against it, his conscience pushing against the resistance with an effort that would be futile to challenge. He felt like a parent who just told his toddler they would never be the president and instead would most likely end up in a dead end desk job. Before he had time to stop himself, he opened his mouth to speak.

"Well, hold on a second Rachel. Just because it _is_ Finn doesn't mean it's hopeless. There is a chance that the night will be perfect, even though you might not expect it to be. You know what?" he asked, his face set with determination. "I'm going to promise you something, Rachel. I'm going to promise that tonight will be the best date you have ever experienced in your short little life. It's going to be so wonderful that no other date will ever come close in comparison."

Rachel looked puzzled but in higher spirits, slightly confused by Kurt's sudden change in attitude.

"Okay…"

"I promise." Kurt smiled at her one last time before turning to his car, climbing in behind the wheel with a strange, sudden resolve. He had approximately four more hours until Finn picked Rachel up at her house, and he had a lot of work to do.

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><p>"I don't get it though. What's the point in getting out of the car and walking all the way to her door to pick her up when I could just honk the horn?"<p>

Kurt let out an exasperated scoff. "You've got to be kidding me, right? Seriously, Finn? Please tell me you're joking."

Finn waved his hands around in clueless, frustrated gestures. "I'm not joking, it's an honest question!"

"Of all things to mess up on, especially in the very beginning…" Kurt dragged his hands down his face in an aggravated, exhausted manner, pausing to compose himself before he slapped the quarterback upside his head. "I cannot begin to impress upon you how important it is to pick her up at the door. If you sit in your car and refuse to make the effort to appear somewhat of a gentleman, her parents will hate you forever. They'll think you're an asshole, Finn. Do you want them to think you're an asshole?"

"N…no…? Is this a trick question?"

"What? No! Finn, listen to me. Put all your focus into the words coming out of my mouth. Tonight is all about _her_. Not you. It has absolutely nothing to do with you. As far as I'm concerned, you're not even a necessary variable. I could replace you with a robot or a monkey. It honestly wouldn't matter. Do you know why it wouldn't matter?" Kurt paused for a moment as Finn sat silently with a slack jaw. "It wouldn't matter because as long as that robot or that monkey shows her a good time, she'll be happy. Really, Finn, it doesn't take a genius to impress a girl on a date. Yes, they expect sappy, stereotypical romance and they expect it in abundance, but other than that, you're basically set. Understand?" Kurt asked, though he didn't give Finn much of a chance to answer seeing as how he continued with his monologue with a heavier sense of importance. "_But_, if you mess that up, you're _done_. You are finished. You are screwed. You are royally f—"

"Okay, Kurt, I think he gets it."

Kurt turned to face Blaine who was splayed comfortably across his couch.

"I'm just trying to make my point clear."

"I know," Blaine replied, a small smile playing across his lips. "But you might be making him more nervous than anything."

"As far as I'm concerned, he needs to be nervous. You can't face Rachel Berry unprepared. That's basically a death sentence."

Blaine chuckled lightly and ran his hands through his freshly freed, dampened locks. "Just try not to scare him too much. No date goes perfectly. My first date with you went horribly and look," he said, gesturing to Kurt, "you're still here. If Rachel really likes him enough, she'll stay with him regardless of the quality of a silly little date."

Kurt raised his eyebrow at his boyfriend, placing his hands on his hips and cocking his head to the side. "What are you talking about? That night was perfect."

Blaine laughed and gazed at Kurt sweetly as if his disbelief was the most endearing thing he'd ever seen. "Really, now? Kurt I can't believe you think so; oh my lord, I was so mortified afterwards when I got home. I thought for a little while it had gone so awfully you might never call me or speak to me again."

Kurt pursed his lips and stared, unable to comprehend. Blaine just kept laughing and continued on, his smile stretching from ear to ear. "Do you really not remember? I screwed up our dinner reservation at Clyde's, so instead we had to order takeout."

"But…but it was so nice though. You rented a rowboat and we ate lo mien in the middle of the lake with the waves lapping up against the side…and you could see the reflection of the moon on the water; it was beautiful."

"And then I spilled sweet and sour sauce on my tux because the bug lantern fell into the water so we couldn't see anything."

"It was cute, though."

"It was embarrassing."

Kurt smiled again and ambled over to Blaine, sitting down on the cushion next to him and taking his hand. "I don't care what you think. That date was perfect. It just made me love you more than I already did."

Blaine looked touched, his hands reaching out to frame Kurt's face so he could stroke his thumbs across the boy's cheekbones. "Well it's good to know that you think my clumsiness is adorable," he said sarcastically, but his smile dulled the edge in the remark.

"You're always adorable, no matter how clumsy and uncoordinated you are."

"Oh, well gee, thanks."

"No problem." Kurt giggled, leaning in to plant a soft kiss on his boyfriend's lips, one hand resting on Blaine's chest and the other brushing against the fluff of tangled hair at the nape of his neck.

"Um…hey guys?"

Kurt glanced up at the sound of Finn's voice, turning his head to catch his step- brother's awkward face. Finn was wringing his hands together uncomfortably; he was obviously the third wheel.

"It's great that you love each other and stuff, but I still kinda need help."

Kurt rolled his eyes, leaning down to squeeze in one more quick kiss before jumping off the couch, leaving Blaine alone with his yearning, puppy dog eyes. Kurt crossed his arms at him comically. "Oh stop complaining, you. Just wait till later after Finn leaves—"

"Dude!"

"Shut up Finn," Kurt quipped, turning to him and giving him a quick glare. "Okay, next…whenever you approach a door with Rachel, you do what?"

"Uh…open it?"

"Yes, but open it how?"

"…I pull on the handle?"

Kurt sighed. "Okay, I don't think we're on the same page. Whenever you approach a door, you always hold the door open for the lady to go through first. It's called chivalry, Finn, which is a very important element in a date."

"But…she can open a door herself. Wouldn't it be sort of insulting to do it for her?"

"Wait, what? No, no it's not…ugh…Finn I know she's perfectly capable of opening a door, it's just more gentlemanlike to do it for her."

"Oh…uh, okay…"

"This includes the car, too. So whenever she enters or exits the car, it's your job to open her door."

Finn eyes bugged incredulously. "Ugh, that's so much work…"

Kurt rolled his eyes for the umpteenth time, but ignored him. "Next up is table manners. Pop quiz, Finn: Pretend you're looking at a set table. Which fork do you use for your salad, the one on the left or the one on the right?"

"Uh…um…the, uh, right one?"

"Wrong, the one on the left."

"Wait, how was I supposed to know that?"

"Here's a tip for silverware," Kurt started, disregarding Finn's complaint. "Over the course of your dinner, you are going to work your way in. Use the outermost utensils first for the soups or salads and then move on to the inner utensils for the main course."

"Am I supposed to be taking notes or something?"

"If it helps you, go ahead."

"Oh my god…" Finn groaned, throwing his head back. "I'm so not ready for this."

"I couldn't agree more."

"Kurt," Blaine called from the couch. "Go easy on him."

"Okay, okay, fine." Kurt complied. "Anyway, let's do a few more. Where does your napkin go?"

"In your lap." Finn replied instantaneously.

"Good, at least you know that one. Here's another easy one; your elbows should _not_ be where?"

"On the table."

"And when you chew, your mouth stays…?"

"Closed."

Kurt clapped his hands approvingly. "Well, look at you! Maybe you're not totally hopeless after all."

"Kurt…" Blaine warned.

"Yeah, yeah…" Kurt waved him off. "Okay let's see, how much time do we have before you need to leave?" He muttered, more to himself, looking down to check his Givenchy watch. "About half an hour, which means you need to get dressed. So, go put on something nice and brush your teeth and all that and we'll be set." Kurt announced with a triumphant smile. Finn looked at him like he was crazy.

"W-wait…you expect me to dress myself?"

"Um Finn, unless I'm mistaken, haven't you been doing that since you were six?"

Finn gave him a humorless, stony stare. "Duh, I know how to dress for school, I'm not stupid. I just need your help picking out a dress shirt and tie and stuff. Last time I tried to dress up I looked like a complete moron."

Kurt fought against a grin. "Was that the time you wore a pinstripe suit with a muscle t-shirt and a plaid tie? Oh dear god, Finn that was horrid."

"Just…shut it," he said flatly. "Can you please just help me?"

Kurt grumbled to himself. "Yeah, I guess. C'mon lets go." He sighed, leading the way up the stairs.

Fifteen minutes later, Kurt skipped back downstairs with an extra spring in his step, his face lit up with cheery satisfaction.

"Oh Blaine!" He called, spinning around the bottom banister. "Come get a look at my little friend!"

Kurt saw Blaine's head pop out above the top of the couch, a small smile on his lips from seeing Kurt so happy.

"Finn, get down here!" Kurt called sharply up the stairs. He turned back to Blaine with a cocky grin. "I'm a genius. I'm a total genius. This could not have turned out more awesome," he bragged.

Blaine watched curiously as Finn made his way to the main floor. The poor boy was beet red and self conscious, but Blaine had to give Kurt credit, he looked more put-together than he'd ever seen him. The navy blue sports coat was casual, but tasteful, and the silver tie complemented the sky blue dress shirt perfectly. Finn's hair was even styled with gel, lightly textured to add some flair but not enough to draw any special attention.

Below the waist sat the matching dress pants and black, polished Italian shoes that looked like they'd never been worn before, which, probably, was the case.

"Wow, Finn, looking sharp there. Kurt, I give you my compliments, the outfit looks great."

"Thank you. Finally, _someone _appreciates my work," he said, giving Finn a dark glare.

"Don't look at me like that," Finn shot back, his brow set angrily. He mellowed after a few moments, looking down at his clothing with dread. "I feel so…weird…"

"But you look handsome, which is what's most important."

"Whatever…"

"Okay now, let's review. When you pick Rachel up _at the door_," he held Finn's gaze pointedly. "You say…?"

Finn exhaled sharply, clearly annoyed. "Hello Mr. and Mr. Berry, My name is Finn Hudson, and I'm here to pick up your daughter."

"Perfect. And if they ask you anything, how do you reply?"

"With 'yes' or 'no, sir'"

Kurt looked proudly upon his step brother with an unashamed smile. "I believe I have reached success," he declared, standing still for a minute before breaking his composure and pumping his fist Tiger-Wood's-style. Blaine chuckled behind him and Kurt turned around to face his boyfriend, rushing over to the couch and plopping down next to him.

"Okay Finn," he called to his brother who was now pacing the kitchen nervously. "Showtime."

Finn glanced up at them, anxiety plain on his features for once, unmasked by frustration or annoyance. Kurt softened a bit and leaned over the back of the couch. "Hey, don't worry too much, okay? I know I made it sound like a lot, but…Blaine was right. No date is perfect. If it doesn't turn out the way you thought it would, just go with the flow. Be yourself. She'll love you the way you are, anyways. Trust me."

Finn nodded numbly, though he seemed to relax a little, and he took a deep breath. "O-okay…okay. I can do this," he mumbled, his eyebrows pulling together determinedly. He looked back up at Kurt and Blaine, a new fire in his eyes, and squared his shoulders. "Thanks for your help, Kurt. I'll see you guys later."

Finn nodded to himself once more and then turned on his heels, marching out the front door resolutely. Kurt waited until the sound of his car faded into the distance before facing his boyfriend again. Blaine was gazing at him tenderly, and his lips pulled up faintly in content.

"He's grown up so much," Kurt sighed jokingly, snuggling into Blaine's side and pressing a light kiss into the crook of his neck. "Ugh, now I'm almost nervous for him. Why do I always care way too much about my work?"

He felt Blaine's chest shake against him with silent laughter.

"I wouldn't be so nervous. I think, thanks to you, he's too scared to make a mistake."

Kurt stuck his tongue out and shoved him lightly, scowling as Blaine broke into a fit of laughter and leaned up to press his lips to Kurt's temple.

"You're lucky you're so hot." Kurt grumbled as he felt Blaine smile against his forehead. Blaine pulled back a bit, leaving only an inch between their faces, and Kurt noticed his eyes darkening.

"Am I, now?" Blaine breathed, his hands sliding down Kurt's torso possessively. "Prove it."

Kurt stared for a few seconds, his sight wandering over his boyfriend's features, the way Blaine's lips were parted ever so slightly, the way the remaining light from outside danced across the curvatures of his face with a mixture of orange and violet, how the muscles in his forearms bulged against the tight fabric of his shirt.

He closed the distance, crushing their lips together feverishly, his nails scratching up and down the length of Blaine's back.

Blaine hummed deeply in his throat, clutching one hand to Kurt's hips and the other fisting around his hair. He pushed Kurt firmly down into the couch cushions, pressing their chests flush against one another's and sighing at the heat. His tongue traced along Kurt's lower lip, delving into his boyfriend's mouth after Kurt allowed the intrusion, and he ran his fingers across the taller boy's scalp. Kurt groaned quietly at the different, but good sensations, and wriggled his body from underneath Blaine's weight, gasping at the wonderful friction.

"How—ah—how's that for proving it?" Kurt managed to push past his clenched teeth. His eyes squeezed shut as Blaine ground down his hips.

"Not bad." Blaine growled, tilting his head so he could latch his teeth into the soft flesh just underneath Kurt's jaw.

"Oh!" Kurt yelped in surprise, his exclamation lowering pitch into a low moan as Blaine sucked hard on the skin.

"B-Blaine, that's…ugh…that's going to leave a m-mark…"

Blaine chuckled darkly and continued to form the bruise, twitching his hips forward and pitching Kurt into an incoherent, babbling mess.

After he pulled his mouth back from his work, Blaine was immediately yanked forward as Kurt met his lips in sloppy, open mouthed kisses, their breaths colliding hotly against their cheeks. Kurt grasped the back of Blaine's neck, holding him there as he moved against him, his tongue running along the back of his boyfriend's teeth.

Blaine's arms moved out from under Kurt, and the taller boy let out a short whimper of complaint before Blaine braced himself against the sides of the couch and ground his hips down with excessive force. Kurt let out a shout, his vision blurring over for a split second before returning to normal, his eyes wide from shock at the feeling and his chest heaving.

In that moment of silence, Kurt's phone blared suddenly from the coffee table, the boy's jumping in their position as The Beatles', 'Blackbird' rattled against the wood.

"Shiiiit…" Kurt groaned, his head tilting back in annoyance. Blaine sighed and slumped down against him, resting his forehead on Kurt's shoulder. Kurt reached over to check the caller ID, cursing to himself when he saw it was Finn. He considered letting it go to voicemail, but then he realized he wasn't that cruel.

"H-hello?" He said, still somewhat breathless.

_"Uh, hey, I have a question—"_

"Finn, this better be freaking important."

_"It is, it is…why do you sound all winded…?"_

There was a small pause as Kurt waited for Finn to piece it together

_"Dude, seriously? It's been like, five minutes since I left!"_

"Get over it." Kurt replied shortly. "What's your question?"

_"How much do I tip the waiters after dinner?"_

Kurt stopped to think for a moment, but he found it difficult as Blaine started to work his lips across his skin again, sucking and nipping along his shoulder.

"U-uh, give him twenty p-percent." Kurt fumbled, struggling to keep his breath steady.

_"But…isn't that a lot? Isn't it usually like fifteen or eighteen?"_

"F-Finn just…trust me on this—" Kurt stuck his hand over the receiver for a moment as Blaine jerked his hips again. "Blaine _ohmygod_ stop!" he gasped, clenching his teeth.

_"Hello? Kurt, are you there? Hellooo?"_

Kurt brought the phone back to his lips again. "Sorry, uh, interference— it's twenty percent, Finn, because—b-because you're going to a nicer restaurant…and you are getting better s-service…so you tip them slightly—ah!—more."

_"Oh, okay." _Finn replied uncomfortably. _"Er…thanks then, um…I'll just…go…"_

Kurt heard a resounding click as the call ended, and he let his phone drop from his hand. "Blaine…" he growled, glaring at his boyfriend's devious smile. "You're insane. Do you know how much you scared my step-brother just now? He might never sit on this couch again."

Blaine's eyes narrowed in a mock-sadistic manner. "Good. Then we'll have this thing reserved."

Kurt rolled his eyes dramatically, though his body was quivering from the lack of motion.

"What's wrong, love?" Blaine asked airily, widening his eyes in the epitome of innocence. Kurt gave him a dead-panned stare in return, attempting to cross his arms but failing in his current position. A few seconds of silence passed before Blaine's realized Kurt's seriousness and he stuck out his lower lip, flashing his best kicked-puppy gaze.

"Oh, stop it." Kurt scoffed, though he fought against a smile at his boyfriend's expression.

"Are you mad at me now?" Blaine asked, the pout still prominent on his features.

Kurt huffed in exasperation, but gave him a small, tender grin. "No…I suppose not."

The response came so quickly, it was almost comical. Blaine's face lit up and he leaned down deliver an overly-enthusiastic kiss, leaving Kurt's hair rumpled and his cheeks flushed. He ran his calloused fingers down the buttons on Kurt's shirt and along the thin strip of skin where the garment had come un-tucked, creeping up below the fabric to scratch lightly at the skin of his chest.

"Good," he breathed, his sultry inflection causing Kurt to shiver. "Then come here, you."


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Hey guys! So I know that the last few chapters have been full of cavity inducing fluff, but no longer—at least for this chapter, haha. For those of who were wondering where the hurt/comfort went, don't worry; those chapters were primarily filler chapters for the time of Kyle's suspension. Prepare for more angst and sadness :( sorry, but I gotta do it, guys. Anyway, thank you soo much for all the reviews, you have no idea how motivating they are. **

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><p>Was there ever anything in the world as annoying as an alarm clock? At the moment, Kurt didn't think so.<p>

"Ugh…dammit…" he groaned, rolling over on his side and banging on the device repeatedly until it shut off. The silence was almost enough to lull him back to sleep, but the voice in his head nagging him to get up deemed too loud to ignore. With a noise of complaint, Kurt rose from beneath his soft, down comforters and onto the floor, stumbling over to the bathroom to begin his extensive moisturizing routine.

Normally, he was very much a morning person, provided that he had gotten enough sleep the night before. In this instance, he hadn't. He'd spent most of the night staring at the ceiling, fidgeting in his sheets to no end and wishing that the next morning would never come. The suffocating pressure of anxiety had bore heavily down on his chest and, after checking his clock for the fourth time in the course of fifteen minutes, he'd figured that a sleepless night was unavoidable.

Kurt shut the mirror door on the cabinet above his sink after retrieving his skin care products, staring lifelessly at the bluish circles beneath his eyes and the pale pallor of his cheeks. He hadn't looked this awful in a while—not counting his appearance during his hospital stay. His bangs were matted in awkward clumps against his forehead and the rest of his hair stood up in random tufts along his scalp. He would have cared much more, if the circumstances were different. But today, only one thought was running through his mind in a continuous stream.

_Kyle is back. Kyle is back- Kyle is back- Kyle is back._

He sighed heavily as he began to exfoliate, his shoulders slumping slightly as he rinsed his skin with freezing water. The temperature change was just enough to jolt him fully awake and out of his hazy stupor, and he shuddered as the memory of his beating appeared uninvited in the forefront of his thoughts. He remembered the way Kyle's face had looked just before the grand finale of punches and kicks ensued, the hockey captain's face sweaty and red and full of sadistic, unadulterated rage. Kurt's breath hitched and his heart increased in tempo; he didn't even realize that the hand holding his washcloth was frozen halfway up to his face until he consciously looked down and saw it, lowering the cloth down onto the counter so he could grip the edge with both his arms and breathe.

A sudden wave of anger washed over him and he slammed the heel of his hand down against the marble, glaring at the extremity until the pain ebbed away. He hated that he was so afraid all the time, hated that he had no control. It was ridiculous that he was frightened of entering his school premises, of walking alone in the hallway without someone to hide behind or cling to. He shouldn't have to look over his shoulder when eating lunch every day. He should be able to go to the bathroom by himself without worrying about getting shoved face first into a urinal.

Kurt growled menacingly in the back of his throat, the sound gradually increasing in volume as the fury boiled under his skin. He struck the counter again, but suddenly the pain wasn't enough to distract him; he needed another physical outlet. Without thinking, he lashed out at the bottles standing upright near the sink, sending them flying across the bathroom and into the wall with such force that they left divots in the plaster. They clattered to the floor one after the other and rolled until apart in different directions until they hit either the baseboard or the shower stall, leaving the bathroom in an eerie silence as the heat in Kurt's chest extinguished and morphed into a painful sorrow. Tears welled up and overflowed down his cheeks and he gritted his teeth against the wracking sobs pushing up past his lips. He tripped backwards as he moved his feet, catching himself against the wall and sliding down until he could feel the cool tile beneath him.

"Kurt?" Burt called from upstairs. "Is everything okay? I heard a crash."

"I'm f-fine, Dad," Kurt replied, his voice breaking as the onslaught of tears pursued. No response came from his father at first, but when it did, Burt's voice was considerably gentler.

"Is everything alright with you, son?" He called cautiously. Kurt didn't bother to answer, curling up in a ball and crying openly into his arms. Another minute passed as his father deliberated, and finally Kurt heard him descend down the stairs and into his bedroom. Burt pushed open the door hesitantly, his face dropping when he observed his son's hunched, grief stricken figure.

"Hey, hey…" He said softly, bending down to place a strong hand on Kurt's back. "It'll be okay."

"N-no it won't." Kurt choked, lifting his tear streaked face to lock eyes with his dad. "Kyle's coming back today. I'm _screwed_, dad. I'm freaking d-dead, and there's nothing I can do and it's not fair at all a-and…" Kurt broke down again and buried his head in his hands as sobs wracked through his thin frame.

"Kurt, let me tell you something," Burt started, rubbing his thumb comfortingly against the boy's shoulder blade. "That kid won't do a damn thing to you? You know why?"

Kurt shook his head a fraction of an inch.

"Because he's not stupid enough to get into more trouble. Even though I have absolutely no faith in that principal of yours, I know that, at the very least, he and the rest of the faculty are going to be breathing down Kyle's sorry neck for a long time coming. And if he _does_ try anything," Burt paused, fighting to keep his face neutral. "He'll have to answer to _me_. And at that point, I won't care whose kid it is; I will beat on him like any good parent should."

Kurt sniffled and leaned into his father, taking comfort from his solid, protective hold.

"T-thank you." He whispered, wiping his face on the sleeve of his pajama shirt.

"No problem, bud. Are you okay to go to school though? I can't imagine you got that much of a rest last night. Maybe I could write a note so you can stay home."

"No, you don't have to do that for me," Kurt mumbled, sniffing and reaching for his tissue box. He took a moment to properly clean his face before standing up again, wobbling on his unsteady feet. He got another glimpse of himself in the mirror and groaned internally at how the salty tears had wreaked havoc on his face. "I have to buckle down and be brave, for once."

"Kurt," his father countered. "Don't feel like you have to prove yourself. You're one of the bravest people I know; I wouldn't think anything less of you if you decided to wait a day before going back, and neither would any of your friends."

Kurt shook his head solemnly. "I know that. But what do you think would happen if Kyle realized I wasn't there? He would think I was too scared to face him," he said, cringing at the thought of more abuse. Burt looked long and hard at his son, calculating and weighing options, before conceding with a short sigh.

"Alright, if that's what you want, it would be foolish of me to say otherwise. I'm proud of you, Kurt," he said with a small smile. "You're strong. Much stronger than I was at your age."

Kurt grinned weakly in response and let himself be pulled into a hug, taking a small, steadying breath in preparation for the day.

* * *

><p>"Hey 'Cedes."<p>

"Hey hun, how are you holding up?"

"Actually," Kurt began, sitting down next to his best friend as the bell signaling the beginning of Spanish erupted through the speakers. "Pretty well. I expected worse, to be honest, but luckily I haven't seen…_him_ yet, or any of his minions. Maybe the suspension taught him a lesson. Maybe he's being more careful, now."

Mercedes' expression twisted skeptically but she caught herself, forcing her signature smile before Kurt turned to face her again. "That's great, Kurt! I'm happy for you."

Kurt raised one eyebrow sardonically, not buying her façade in the slightest. "But…?" A moment passed before Mercedes let her smile fall, wringing her hands guiltily.

"But…I wouldn't get your hopes up too soon," she said quietly, looking down into her lap. "I'm sorry, Kurt, but Kyle is just not the type of guy who gives up easily. None of the other bullies are. The same guy who throws slushies at me has been doing it for over two years and he's not stopping anytime in the near future. Sure, there's still hope that maybe Kyle's turned good, but I doubt it…I just don't see it happening."

Kurt didn't feel as disappointed as he thought he would. He had been careful about not getting his hopes up, but there was still a small sliver of it there that he could not control, and the feeling of it being crushed to bits was inescapable.

"Hey, don't feel bad," he told her, draping his arm around her shoulders and giving her a short squeeze. "I know the reality of it; it's okay. You don't have to handle me like a piece of cracked china." Kurt smirked lightly at his own comparison, wondering whether or not he had truly hit the mark with his identity. Mercedes gave him a pouty, half-smile leaning into Kurt's embrace.

"I love you, boo," she said vehemently, rocking the two of them back and forth. Kurt felt a bubble of laughter form for the first time that morning, and his grin widened until it was borderline painful.

"Love you, too."

* * *

><p>The rest of the day passed quickly; no problems arose in the transitions between classes thanks to his very own chauffer service. Puckerman and Sam had insisted on walking him to every one of his rooms, as well as the cafeteria, glaring at anyone who dared to even look at Kurt the wrong way. After the initial embarrassment wore off, Kurt began to like the idea of having personal body guards. He knew that in no way would they last past a week, but he decided to enjoy the luxury while he could, seeing as how the glee kids' overactive concern would simmer down after a few days.<p>

There was probably a large chance that Kyle knew this too and was waiting for the opportune moment to strike again, but Kurt decided to push this from his mind for the moment and bask in what was, up to that point, one of the least torturous school days in years.

The problem arose at the very end of the day as the New Directions were exiting the choir room. He'd broken away from the rest of the group to retrieve something from his locker, fully aware that he was alone and vulnerable in the empty hallway, just as he had been moments before Kyle and his thugs had cornered him outside. He could still hear his friend's voices as he made his way down the row of dented metal units lining the wall, his hand ghosting over the locks until latching onto his own and twisting the dial frantically.

He glanced over his shoulder frequently as he fumbled with the combination, starting over at least three times before the latch clicked and he yanked open the door.

_Oh…Oh my god…_

Kurt's stomach lurched and bile forced its way up through his throat. He found himself dashing down the hallway to the nearest bathroom, throwing open a stall and falling to his knees as he emptied his stomach into the toilet bowl. His palms were slick with sweat and they slid against the porcelain rim as his body heaved violently, choking on small bits of frantic breath that bordered dangerously on hyperventilation.

When he finally realized nothing was coming out anymore, he slumped back against the stall, his body trembling uncontrollably.

"Kurt?" he heard Rachel call from somewhere. The building was silent enough that he could hear the symphony of footsteps as his group made their way down the hallway to look for him. He figured they must have come across his locker too, because every girl in the group shrieked and every boy yelped and let loose a stream of four-letter obscenities.

The image was so grisly, so horrible that it had been branded permanently in his mind.

At first, his brain hadn't registered what exactly the red stains were lining the inside of the space. Only until his eyes focused completely did he realize how nightmarish and gruesome it really was.

His locker had been ransacked and trashed, the only thing remaining inside of it too mangled and terrible to describe in detail. In fact, Kurt couldn't even tell what kind of animal it had been; whatever had massacred the poor creature had torn it to pieces, leaving only short, bloodstained tufts of tawny fur sticking through layers of innards and shredded muscle. Later when Kurt considered it more, he concluded that it was obviously a piece of road kill someone had picked up and stuffed in his locker. He was used to seeing things like it every once in a while during road trips with his dad because it was practically unavoidable in Lima, Ohio, where wildlife was more abundant than in larger city areas. If it had just been the road kill itself, however, he might not have gotten sick to his stomach.

What had truly done him in, though, was the perpetrator's attention to detail. Intentionally placed in the middle of the mass of fur, blood, and sinews was the picture of Blaine he'd kept on the inside of the locker door. In that picture, Blaine had been standing in front of the statue of liberty during one of his trips to New York City with his family, smiling broadly as a boat passed by in the periphery and the wind tousled his wild curls.

Kurt had cherished that picture.

Now, Blaine's beautiful face was marred with blotches of congealed blood. He couldn't handle that.

"Kurt! Where are you!"

He looked up just as Finn burst into the bathroom, his face pale but intensely angry.

"Here," Kurt croaked, his throat stinging from remnants of stomach acid. His face screwed up disgustedly at the residual taste. Finn saw him crouched in the stall and he let out a sigh of relief.

"How…how could somebody…?" Finn started, his voice breaking midway through.

"I don't know."

"It's…so…_sick_…"

"Y-yeah…"

The two of them stood in a numb silence before the quarterback stepped over to the sink and splashed some cool water on his face, smacking his cheeks to retrieve some of the life that had been sucked away.

"Finn!" Kurt heard Rachel call from outside the door. Her voice was strained and wavering. "Did you find him?"

"Yeah, he's in here with me."

Kurt watched as Rachel pushed through into the boy's room, her face shining with frightened tears, and made a b-line straight for him, diving to the floor and pulling him into a suffocating hug.

"Oh my god, Kurt," she blubbered, burying her face in his shoulder. "That's so…awful…I can't even begin to …why would someone…?"

Kurt didn't have the energy to return the hug. He let his hands rest at his sides and he stared at the wall across from him. Every part of him seemed…dead. He couldn't get a grasp on any real emotion, even though he knew he should have been screaming or crying or passing out or _something._ He couldn't get past this void, this lack of anything and everything. This total emptiness.

Before he knew it, all of New Directions had filed into the bathroom, each of them with a similar, disturbed expression on their face. They gathered outside of the stall and looked upon him with such pity that Kurt wanted to shrink into a ball.

Each gave their two-pence of consolation before stepping back and letting him exit the small space, all giving him a gentle pat on the back or arm. Puck was the first to speak up again, and his voice was eerily calm.

"That's it. I'm killing him. I don't care about the jail time; I'm killing him."

"Kurt, we need to talk to Figgins about this." Quinn murmured, her normally smooth voice uneven and rough.

Kurt nodded silently, his eyes dry and lips still drained white.

"What is Figgins gonna do? Think about it; what has he really done to help Kurt?" Santana piped in, the edge in her voice evident as she fell back into the same defense mechanism she used when she was scared.

"I say we just take care of this ourselves and beat the shit out Kyle." Sam growled, his fists clenched at his sides.

"Guys, guys! We can't beat the shit out of anyone." Tina said, calming the riled crowd. She quickly turned to Kurt, adding, "not that we don't want to, of course, but we would just get into tons of trouble. For now, at least, let's just get Kurt to Figgins, and then we'll figure it out from there."

The glee kids grumbled their agreement and began to leave the bathroom. Mercedes stayed behind and linked her arm in Kurt's, her eyes trained sadly to the floor and not saying a word as she pulled him along beside her. They made sure to take an alternate route to the main office in the opposite direction of his locker.

Kurt could almost see the formation of a cycle happening. Was it always going to be this way? He would get hurt, and then run straight to Principal Figgins only to be placated and brushed away, returning there when the next problem arose just to get the same result. Why couldn't the system be on his side for once in his life? Was it destined to be this way until he left high school? He didn't know if he could survive that way. At some point, it would become too much to handle. He knew his limits.

A thought passed idly through his head as he was dragged along, a question as to how much more he could really take before he went under. He was already treading on thin ice; he just didn't know what event would be enough to break the surface.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: So tired…don't have much to say for this one; it's basically just a continuation of last chapter.**

* * *

><p>Kurt couldn't recall ever seeing Figgins' beady little eyes pop so dramatically.<p>

"They did _what?_" he bellowed, his hands slamming down on the surface of his mahogany desk and his ill-fitting suit jacket scrunching up on his tensed shoulders. Kurt sat opposite in one of the cheap, hideously upholstered seats, the rest of the New Directions gathered in a half-moon around him, glaring at the small, baffled man.

"They broke into his locker and planted a bloody, half-flattened animal carcass. I don't know what about it so hard to grasp," Santana quipped, her eyes narrowed threateningly from her position directly behind Kurt. Figgins shot her a warning glance before pinching the bridge of his nose, expelling a frustrated breath.

"That is _inexcusable_!" he announced. "They must be insane to think they are going without penalty."

"It's about goddamned time." Santana muttered, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms over her chest. Figgins ignored her and looked down at his desk, picking up a long sheet of paper covered in indecipherable numbers and symbols and dashed lines. He held it up to their eye level meaningfully, his gaze hard.

"Do you know how much their little stunt is going to cost me?" he asked rhetorically, his voice rising in pitch from stress. "I'm already _knee deep_ in complaints about the recent budget cuts and now I'm going to have to hire a cleaning crew on top of it all! Not only do they have to _clean_ the mess, they have to _chemically sterilize _it, as well as the units surrounding it!" He threw up his arms, the paper—which, by this point, the glee kids had assumed was finance related—flung into the air behind him, drifting slowly to the floor. Something finally clicked with them all, because all of a sudden the mood in the small office darkened drastically.

"You've got to be shitting me." Puck growled, the veins bulging in his muscled forearms as his fists clenched. "We just told you that someone _purposefully _singled Kurt out, stole his stuff, and stuffed the body of a dead animal in his locker, and all you can worry about is the _money?_"

"This is ridiculous," Tina hissed, her signature Goth makeup intensifying the power of her glower. Mike stood on her left, one arm draped protectively around her waist while the other fidgeted at his side as though he craved violent justice.

Kurt shot a glance over his shoulder at the group of enraged teens, and he was oddly touched. It wasn't quite that he _felt _it as it was that he knew he _should_ be feeling it, but the effect was more or less the same. Maybe he was wrong from before in the lunch room when he assumed none of them cared deeply enough to really know his affliction. Maybe he had just been jumping to conclusions in a moment of vulnerability.

The hollow emptiness that had numbed him in the bathroom still lingered, and he still felt nothing. Not sadness or fear or rage or any combination of the three. Like a particle in a colloid, he drifted lazily in suspension with no real destination or conclusion and with no idea how to settle down again. On some level, he knew he should have been emoting more; he should have been curled in a ball weeping or storming to his car and swearing vengeance, but the disconnect prevented any of that. He also knew he should have been doubly worried about the lack of emotion, but, yet again, he simply couldn't find it in him to care. So instead, he waited. Waited for his conscience to crawl out of the shell in which it had recessed.

A small part of him knew he could be waiting for a while.

"Principal Figgins," Kurt heard Artie begin from behind him. He heard the boy inhale nervously; Artie was always reluctant when it came to causing trouble or speaking out against authority. "With all due respect, sir, I don't think you're doing your job correctly."

Figgins stared down at him, abashed.

Artie stared back, gaining confidence in each syllable as he spoke. "You're supposed to be our top administrator. You're in charge of everything. I know that you're under immense pressure all the time …but you're supposed to lead us. Lead the school. You're supposed to protect the integrity of this place. Yeah, money has been tight and everything, and you've had to make some tough decisions on how to spend it, and you're working really hard…but outside of that, you've only been doing half of your job." He paused to swallow, wringing his hands at the sight of Figgins' incredulous expression. "This school is…well, the building itself is good, I guess; I mean it's pretty much clean and everything, but that's beside the point. This _school_, though…it's horrible."

Figgins' eyes widened and his gaze turned cold. Artie continued with a small, strained voice.

"Every morning, I wake up and I have to crawl out of bed to get into my wheelchair. I have to call my mom in to help dress me. She makes my lunch for me, because I can't reach the counter, and then she drives me to school since I can't ride the regular bus. Every day, I let myself hope that maybe, just this once, I could come home and tell my mom that my day was really great without lying to her. And every day, I get thrown down a flight of stairs. My doctor's actually kept a total of how many stitches I've gotten in the past few years. One hundred and eleven. I have a hairline fracture on my wrist that still hurts when it rains. But you know what? I don't care so much about all that. It doesn't matter. What matters is…is the look on my mom's face when I come home with a black eye, or covered in red slushie…I can't stand to see it."

Nobody moved. Nobody breathed.

"These people," Artie gestured around him, "are my best friends. Not because we like the same things. Not because we have very much in common at all. We don't. They're my best friends because they understand. They experience the same things I do every day. Not _exactly _the same things, of course, but enough happens to them that they know how it feels to be persecuted, to be bullied. We've come together not for the reasons that normal relationships form, but because we are scarred. And it's not just us. There are loads of others too that we just haven't met… Principal Figgins," he said, praying for the man to listen for once, to acknowledge, to _see_. "It shouldn't be this way. It should never be this way. But the reason it is, is because you refuse to do anything about it. Please, sir, feel free to step outside your office during the day and take a look around; it happens everywhere, at any time. If the students are what really make a school a _school_, then why are you letting them destroy each other's lives? Wouldn't that be the equivalent of letting the school ruin _itself_?"

Artie slipped back into silence, letting his words permeate the air of the small office. The rest of the New Directions spoke nothing, all looking down somberly at their feet as their friend's questions sunk down into the carpet.

A small prickle of feeling crept back into Kurt's core. He felt the hollowness grow ten-fold, but now there was sorrow to accompany it, and he found himself desperately wanting to cry. But he couldn't because he was at school, sitting in the office chair, across from a man who wouldn't listen. A man who was too preoccupied with anything and everything else but the well-being of the students around him.

Kurt watched as a glimmer of pity flashed across Figgins' pupils, and he began to hope. He clung to the hope that finally Figgins had realized the problem, that he had finally begun to understand how much he'd shirked his duties as an administrator. He hoped that possibly, now that Figgins was aware, the situation at school would begin to change. He hoped that, maybe, he wouldn't have to be afraid every time he walked through the double doors, that he could smile and laugh and have fun like everybody else. That he could live.

But he'd made a mistake. He shouldn't have hoped.

Figgins looked down at Artie empathetically, tilting his head as he replied to him, his voice professional and distant.

"Now, Mr. Abrams, I'm sorry to hear about your mom, but you can talk about your personal problems with Ms. Pillsbury. I'm sure she would be happy to help you and give you a few brochures. As for you, Mr. Hummel," he said, turning to Kurt who sat frozen in his position with his chin in his hand. "I am truly sorry about your locker and I'm sure your experience was very unpleasant. I will have it cleaned up straight away, but until then I have to make a few phone calls, so, if you boys and girls will excuse me…"

Figgins pushed past the crowd and out of his office, disappearing through another door just as the group looked back to watch him leave.

As quickly as the feelings had come back to him, they vanished again.

Kurt remained in the chair, barely hearing Puck and Santana's long string of swears as they admonished the coward their Principal really was. He didn't completely register Mercedes' hand on his shoulder and her anguished cries of frustration. He failed to fully comprehend the look of absolute misery on Artie's face and his friends' mumbles of sympathy as they patted the boy on his heavy shoulders.

The world presented itself to him in shades of white and grey. All around him was uninteresting and blank.

He shouldn't have hoped.

* * *

><p>"Hey Kurt. Blaine called to tell you he's coming over early today," Finn called from the kitchen, whistling one of the glee songs they were practicing that week as he waited for the waffle maker to beep so he could flip it over.<p>

"Okay," Kurt said.

He was lying on his couch, not really watching Oxygen and eating popcorn. Buttered popcorn that was ridiculously high in fat. He was also dressed in a tank top and boxer shorts, his hair un-styled and a bit messy from having his head stuffed in a pillow for three hours straight.

Kurt yawned and brushed some crumbs off his stomach and onto the floor, his hand grasping out blindly for the root beer he'd placed on the coffee table earlier and forgotten to drink. After taking a few stinging gulps he felt a familiar prickling on the back of his neck and he glanced up to see Finn staring at him uneasily, a look a confusion plain on his face.

"What?" Kurt asked evenly, his voice void of undertone or any sort of inflection. Finn furrowed his brows and rubbed his neck awkwardly, his eyes shifting to anywhere in the room with the exception of Kurt's unwavering, lifeless gaze.

"Nothing."

"Okay," Kurt said.

Finn swallowed and turned back to the waffle maker.

They had both come to the agreement not to tell Burt about the incident, knowing that the end result would be the same as last time, Kurt sitting in the hideous office chair while his dad threw insult after insult at the ignorant Principal. Finn had been decidedly less enthusiastic about keeping secrets from Kurt's father, but he quickly realized that none of his arguments would ever be as concrete as his step-brother's, and he surrendered.

Burt was kept efficiently in the dark and, hopefully, would stay in the dark as long as none of the school staff or glee kids told him anything. Along with his father, Blaine had also not caught wind, and Kurt intended to keep it that way. Last time Blaine saw him hurt, he'd decided to confront Kyle alone. Luckily, no major damage had been done, save a sore jaw and minor mental trauma, but it was obvious Kyle could have done much, much more if he'd truly wanted to. Kurt couldn't take that chance again.

Twenty or so minutes passed before the front door creaked open and Blaine's cheerful voice rang down the hallways.

"Hello, babe! Guess who?" he sing-songed. Kurt looked up from the couch, watching absently as Blaine strolled into the living room, shedding himself of his coat and tie and tossing the garments on the kitchen table. Blaine looked so comfortable. So utterly at home.

The dark haired boy looked over at him, his face lighting up substantially, and he glowed from his chin to his hairline. "Well, look at you. This is different; are pajamas now in vogue?"

Kurt glanced down at his attire and wondered idly if he should have changed before Blaine arrived. Or combed his hair. Or showered. Blaine misinterpreted Kurt's silence as self-consciousness and he backtracked hurriedly, wandering around the couch to sit next to the quiet boy and pull him into his arms.

"I don't object to the new look," he assured Kurt, placing kisses in his soft, chestnut hair. "To be honest, it's pretty sexy." Blaine's tone lowered at his last sentiment and he let his hands crawl up the length of Kurt's back, his fingers bunching in the fabric of the ribbed tank. He leaned down to brush his lips gently along the skin of Kurt's neck, stopping just left of the top's strap to plant his mouth and suck gently enough to not leave a mark. His hands kneaded the knotted muscles of Kurt's shoulder blades and he inhaled deeply, sighing as the smell of Kurt flooded his system. Every movement was sweet and slow and caring, and Kurt couldn't figure out why he wasn't feeling anything, why shivers weren't rushing down his spine and why his heart wasn't speeding and why he didn't have the overwhelming need to push Blaine down into the cushions and contribute his own kisses to the mix.

Blaine seemed to sense something too. He pulled back a few inches, his arms still wrapped around Kurt's thin frame, and looked carefully at his boyfriend. Kurt appeared drowsy and disheveled, his skin a tad bit paler than the normal shade. Blaine wondered if he sick.

But then he looked into Kurt's eyes, and the small spark of worry erupted into a wildfire.

"Kurt, what's wrong?" he asked, his hands lifting to frame Kurt's face. Kurt shrugged, and broke their gaze, looking elsewhere in the room as if it were suddenly very interesting.

"I don't know what you mean."

"Yes you do." Blaine countered forcefully, moving his head to capture Kurt's stare again, refusing to be ignored. Kurt attempted to escape from Blaine's grasp, but Blaine only tightened his grip stubbornly until Kurt ceased his efforts and slumped back into the cushions to wait the whole thing out.

His eyes were so…_dead_.

Blaine felt his throat become dry as he analyzed his boyfriend. Kurt's irises were still that beautiful, crystalline blue, but nothing lay behind them. Where was the fire? The life? The flickers of excitement and happiness that, on a normal day, Blaine could pick out individually and smile at and be energized by? All of that was erased and replaced with a dullness that both frightened and greatly concerned him.

"What happened?" Blaine murmured, his thumbs brushing instinctively at Kurt's cheeks.

"Nothing happened. I'm fine."

You're _not _fine."

Kurt tried to shift away again but Blaine protested and demanded, "Tell me what happened, Kurt. Now."

"What if I don't want to?"

Blaine struggled with himself, very much wanting to force the answer but fearful that Kurt might lock up on him and retreat fully. Instead, he settled with a plea, drowning the few words in as much desperation and emotion he could manage. "Kurt just…please…"

Kurt felt another flicker of something illuminate inside of him, but it did not linger long, and he was plunged back into the limbo again. Whatever it was was enough though, and he found himself meeting Blaine's eyes as he dished out the explanation.

"Yesterday was the day Kyle returned from suspension," he began. Blaine was not surprised; he knew this already. But the knowledge was not enough to stop him from flinching at the statement. Anything related to Kyle was automatically bad, and he braced himself for what Kurt was about to tell him, a part of him already incredibly guilty for what Kurt had most likely endured without him. "I didn't see him at all during the day and none of his friends really bothered me that much."

Blaine blinked with shock and he started to decompress. Maybe Kurt was telling the truth. Maybe_ nothing_ really happened.

"Until I went to my locker…"

And then Blaine sunk again.

Kurt told him everything in as much detail as he deemed necessary, toning it down every once in a while when he noticed Blaine's face paling to an unhealthy extent, brushing lightly over when he got sick to his stomach in the bathroom and relaying his experience in Figgins' office with more detail. Blaine said nothing through the entire rendition of the story, his hands still frozen to the sides of Kurt's face, the tips of them growing cold against the natural heat of the taller boy's skin.

Throughout the few minutes, Kurt kept feeling the short bursts of color flashing back and disappearing again. One second, he was worried about Blaine and how he would handle the information, and the next he was plunged back into grey monotones. Every time the flashes would spring up again, he tried desperately to cling to them, to pull himself back up to that level of emotion, but every time he kept falling back into the hole and landing at the bottom.

"And…now I'm here," Kurt finished, meeting Blaine's eyes flatly. "But I'm fine. I'm not flipping out or anything, am I?"

Blaine didn't respond.

Kurt had to pry his boyfriend's fingers from the sides of his face.

Another flash of worry. This time it lasted a bit longer, and Kurt searched the boy's face for any sign of _anything._ For a moment, Kurt was sure that the same thing happening to him was now happening to Blaine until the dark haired boy lifted his hands from his lap and pulled them slowly, roughly through his own gelled curls. Kurt figured that Blaine's original intent with the movement was to pull himself together, but then Blaine's fingers fisted angrily around his hair and his jaw clenched and his eyes burned, and Kurt knew that Blaine was _not_ trying to calm down, that he was working himself up, just like last time.

"Hey hey, stop with that." Kurt said, though no heart was behind his words even though he knew there should be.

Blaine looked up at him and Kurt flinched at his next flash which was full of surprise and a tinge of fear.

"I could…_kill_ him." Blaine breathed, his words barely discernable over the noise of the television that Kurt had forgotten to turn off.

"That's a little melodramatic, don't you think?"

It took a moment for Kurt to realize that Blaine was glaringat him.

"What did you say?" Blaine asked lowly, his voice quivering. Kurt shrunk back a little into the cushions, suddenly a little anxious. On one hand, the lingering quality of the emotion was refreshing and hopeful. On the other, it was terrifying him to see Blaine so furious and distraught.

Blaine didn't let Kurt answer him.

"What is _wrong_ with you, Kurt?" he said, his voice rising. Kurt jolted a bit, a dash of hurt swirling into the apprehension from before.

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. Whenever things like this happen, you're so _ready_ to just let it go and move along like nothing happened. You store everything away for later, and then something like _this _happens," Blaine gestured to Kurt himself, "and you close yourself off for good! And then, when you tell me about it, you expect me to do the same exact thing and just _move on._ Are you…are you _crazy_?" Blaine threw his hands up helplessly, letting out what sounded like a mix between a whine and an exasperated sigh.

Kurt swallowed and tried not to look as sullen as he felt. "Well I'm sorry that I don't react the same way to things as you do. I try not to hold so many grudges. Things like that, no matter how hard you try to contain them, tend to taint relationships with other people. They _warp _you, Blaine. And even though I know I deserve to harbor a few grudges of my own, I don't want to perpetually be angry all the time. I don't want to end up cynical and bitter like Sue Sylvester, for instance. It's called being the better person."

They looked at each other for a long time, and in that time the colors didn't fade and Kurt celebrated internally. But only for a little bit, because he wanted to gauge Blaine's emotions which, if he was interpreting them correctly, seemed to be cooling to a manageable level.

Blaine sighed finally, dropping his head to look into his lap, his gaze full of shame with only a little bit of fire.

"I'm sorry," he said, reaching out to take Kurt's hand in his. "There's nothing wrong with you. You're just…more mature than I am, I suppose. I just…I just feel so _horrible_ when these things happen, especially to someone I love, and I get stupid and overreact."

Kurt smiled sadly. "It's okay." He paused for a moment as they joined hands, sighing in relief as he felt the familiar shiver rush down his spine. "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right?"

Blaine looked like he was about to object, but then he saw how Kurt's eyes were filled with life again and the last remnant of his anger evaporated. He smiled. "Yeah, it does. And no matter what happens, Kurt, we'll push through it together. And we'll get stronger."


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: So this chapter picks up the next day in the middle of Kurt's day at McKinley. **

* * *

><p>He didn't know what event from yesterday pushed him towards this conclusion.<p>

He didn't' know why he was so invigorated, so pumped up with adrenaline he could hardly speak.

All Kurt could comprehend was the image of the sparsely populated hallway in front of him, the last remaining students making their way idly to their respective classes. He should have been headed to his history class, but something had stopped him, something that had been nagging him from the moment he'd woken up and climbed out of bed.

He could hear their voices emanating from an adjacent corridor.

"So he finally snapped and gave me a detention after, like, a month of me cheating on tests. Took the asshole long enough, jeez. You know what, I don't even care anyway; it was fun to see him go apeshit. I slashed his tires too, so he won't even be able to get home. You can't give me detention if you're not at school cuz your car's in the shop."

Kurt listened as a few other male voices laughed in unison to the story. They were getting closer now, and he could feel his heartbeat pounding in his chest.

He knew Kyle's everyday route; it was the same route he used to take before he'd been forced to change it to ensure his safety. Now Kurt was purposefully standing in the intended path, and he had never felt so breathless with anticipation.

"_And no matter what happens, Kurt, we'll push through it together. And we'll get stronger._"

Blaine's voice piped up in his thoughts and he smiled to himself, turning the words around in his mind like he had done all of last night. Sure, Blaine was right on one count; they would get stronger together. But Kurt didn't want to simply _push _through it all, he wanted to_ barrel_ through his obstacles. He wanted to make himself known to his oppressors. He wanted to be heard. After all that he'd been through in his life, after everything that had been shoved in his face day after day, didn't he deserve that much? Hadn't he earned the right to speak up for himself? Just because it had taken several broken ribs and a bout of lifelessness that could have possibly been diagnosable depression to realize it was beside the point.

He stood his ground as the group of burly teens rounded the corner, still chuckling from their friend's tale of unwarranted vandalism. Kurt could feel his breath rising in his throat and could hear the tiny voice in his mind chirping annoyingly like an alarm; _get away, go go go…_

There were three of them, positioned triangularly with Kyle in front and his lackeys flanking. They seemed to look up at the same moment, their expression twisting into similar hate-filled sneers as their footsteps paused on the tile.

"What the hell are _you_ doing here, fairy?" Azimio growled. Kurt swallowed against the lump of terror in his throat, willing his voice to come out even and not cracked like his slowly withering resolve.

"I'll go where I please, thank you very much. And, frankly, I'm surprised you're the one to throw the first insult; isn't that usually Kyle's job, or is his mouth too sore from all the ass he's been kissing to stay out of Juvie?" Kurt glared menacingly, fighting back the surge of excitement that threatened a smile. He decided that he liked fighting back. It was empowering.

Kurt watched as the expression on Kyle's face darkened. The captain lumbered forward, leaving his two friends behind as he approached Kurt himself. Kurt had to force his feet to stay grounded to the floor as Kyle stopped mere feet from him, the boy's giant fists curled tightly enough that the skin of his knuckles stood white against the red flush of anger.

"Say that again, faggot, I dare you," he hissed, leaning forward. Kurt could feel the foul warmth of the boy's breath hitting his cheeks and he fought against the urge to run. _No_, he told himself. _I'm doing this. It's been long overdue_.

"You don't scare me." Kurt said slowly, annunciating each word with an uncharacteristic amount of venom. "You think you're so big and tough, but really you're nothing more than a scared little child who's afraid of anything different. And you know what, Kyle? I'm not going to change. You can't punch the gay out of me any more than I can punch the ignoramus out of you. Is it what it is, and there is nothing you can do. Deal with it."

Kyle paused for a moment, his face flickering out of the hardened glare. For a moment, Kurt thought he saw surprise there, maybe shock. But only for a moment, because Kyle's features immediately shifted back into the former glower and his face reddened even more until he faintly resembled a wrinkled tomato.

"Are you just _asking_ for a beating now? I swear to god, Hummel, I will _break_ your _face_."

Kurt scoffed dramatically and rolled his eyes. "Oh please, you won't do a thing to my face. One more complaint to Figgins and you're screwed."

"Who are you kidding? Figgins won't do shit."

"Oh yeah?" Kurt countered, gritting his teeth as a sickening smile crept onto his lips. He was sure at this point he looked like a madman, and Kyle's reaction to the crazy gleam in his eyes proved him right, but he couldn't care less. "What about your coach? I'm sure he'd be more than willing to do shit if he caught wind of you dishing out any more abuse. I was _hospitalized_, Kyle. That's the magic word, as far as I'm concerned. Hit me one more time and you'll be saying bye-bye to the team. And after that, what will you be? Some worthless little jock wannabe? Could you handle it, Kyle? Could you handle being _nothing_? I don't think so."

Silence hung in the air between them, the tension almost tangible as Kyle opened his mouth to say something but failed to vocalize. Kurt felt his lips pull back against his teeth as his smile widened, his eyes throwing taunts in every which direction.

After what seemed like almost too long, Kyle pulled back and hovered over Kurt, his face contorted with loathing. "You're not…you're not worth my time, faggot." He spat. He seemed to consider something for a moment before reaching out and shoving Kurt violently, throwing the smaller boy onto the floor before stalking off in the opposite direction.

Kurt watched the three of them leave, Azimio and the other thug throwing Kyle confused glances but following him nonetheless. He didn't know if it was just his imagination, but Kyle seemed to walk with less sureness, and Kurt felt an inner part of him leap with joy at the sight. He waited until they turned the corner before picking himself up off the ground and dusting off his clothing, his formerly dark smile brightening into an uncontainable grin.

He couldn't remember when he started laughing, but all of a sudden he was and he doubled over at the strength of it, his cheeks flushed with color and his chest bursting with elation. He was nearly hysterical with the feeling; had he ever been this excited? His body was so pumped full of stale anxiety and adrenaline and happiness he thought he would die.

And the bite of fear that had been gnawing at his conscience had been more than worth it because he had _finally_ spoken out and had been acknowledged in some form or another. Sure, Kyle probably hadn't processed all of it through that thick skull of his, but on some level, Kurt had broken through, and he was so thrilled he could scream. So he did. Loudly. He ran down the hall and into the girl's bathroom, giggling uncontrollably and ignoring the dirty looks thrown his way as he splashed his face with cold water from the sink. After the jitters calmed a bit and the few girls left, Kurt looked up at himself in the mirror, a jolt of pleased surprise coursing down his body as he registered the exuberance there, the unbridled lightness in his eyes and the blush of his cheeks.

He knew that it was unwise of him to hope like this again, to put his heart on the chopping block. But he couldn't stop himself. Beneath the outer layer of joy, there was a part of him that was truly thinking about the consequences of his actions. He most likely put himself in even more danger than he was in previously. But he didn't care. He _knew_ that things would get better. Maybe not that same day, or the day after, but _eventually_ Kyle would back down. And if that was all the hope that he could cling to, so be it; he was clinging.

* * *

><p>Blaine was in the middle of his solo when his pocket vibrated with a text message.<p>

"_Today I don't feel like doing anything…I just wanna—_oh! Shoot, hey guys?"

He turned mid-shuffle to face the rest of the Warblers side-stepping behind him, ignoring their continued background harmonies until they died down awkwardly one after the other. Wes groaned and pulled his hand through his hair.

"Dammit, Blaine, the song was going perfectly." He sighed, annoyance clear in his voice. Blaine disregarded the quip, his fingers already pulling the phone out from his pocket. He angled the screen up to peek at the name of the sender, his heart jumping in his chest when Kurt's name popped out of the little envelope. His initial thought to why Kurt was texting him filled him with dread and he looked back at Wes with a desperate, pleading stare.

"I'm really sorry, but I've got to take this; it's important."

The rest of the Warblers council must have noticed the change in Blaine's demeanor because they nodded in understanding and motioned for him to take the phone outside. Blaine muttered a quick "thank you" before ducking out of the room, whipping the message out as he strode down the ornate, empty hallway.

_I did it! I stood up to Kyle! I finally got the nerve to tell him he's a pitiful dumbass! Well…I didn't actually use those words, but whatever :)_

Blaine felt his limbs turn cold. His mouth popped open silently before his thumbs began flying across the keyboard, furiously typing his reply.

_**What? Kurt, are you crazy? I mean, I'm happy for you and I'm so proud of your courage, but do you have any idea how dangerous that was? **_

He sent the message too soon, not giving enough time for him to really think about what Kurt's actions implied. A thought flashed across his mind and his entire body stiffened with worry. He didn't wait for Kurt's reply before he was typing out another message.

_**Wait, Kurt, he didn't hurt you, did he? **_

_No no no I'm fine; he didn't hit me. Well actually he shoved me over, but whatever, it doesn't matter. What matters is that I did it! God Blaine, I could seriously break into weird, random Broadway tunes right now… _

Despite the after effects from the lurch of his chest, Blaine felt his lips curl upwards at Kurt's message and warmth spread through to his fingertips, soured only a bit by the fact that Kyle had laid a hand on Kurt _anyway,_ but at least the boy's reaction left Kurt unscathed. Blaine could not wait to get home—well, to get to Kurt's house, but he considered it home anyway. He wanted to see the brightness in his boyfriend's eyes that had been absent for quite a while. He wanted to hug and kiss him and support him and share in his happiness.

But it was only fifth period.

Blaine sighed, faintly irritated at how slow time could move when one was watching it, and started typing again at a significantly less brisk pace, letting his fingers amble languidly across the keys as his body relaxed with relief and contentment. He wished he could hear Kurt's voice, but he figured Kurt was sitting in class right now, texting under his desk. Blaine thanked his lucky stars that he'd been in Warblers practice when he'd received the message.

_**I love you, you know that? I'm really very proud of you, Kurt and I can't wait to see you. You did something that I hadn't been able to do when I was in your shoes. You might be the bravest person I know. **_

_I love you too:) And thank you. I've got to go though; my teacher's giving me the 'bitchy-librarian' look again. See you later babe!_

Blaine grinned fully, and typed back a short _**'See you 3'**_ before slipping the phone back in his pocket and making his way back to the Warblers, Kurt's glowing face in the forefront of his thoughts.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I know it's a shorter chapter, but I think I'm going to be wrapping the story up soon, so I wanted to start the ending on a happy note. Yes, I quoted Kurt's actual line from when Karofsky kissed him on the show: "You can't punch the gay out of me any more than I can punch the ignoramus out of you". Classic. I love it. Anyway, I'm sorry about the long gaps between updates; just've had a lot going on. And I feel kinda guilty about my other story Daybreakers which I haven't updated at all in like weeks…yikes I need to get on the ball…**


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